


In a crowd of thousands

by Enj0ltaiRe, reddies_spaghetti



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Amnesia, And the broadway musical as well, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eddie is Anastasia, Historical Accuracy, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Anastasia (1997), M/M, Mike is Sophie, Richie is Dimitri, Stan is Vlad, True Love, because it really is, stozier friendship, they're platonic soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enj0ltaiRe/pseuds/Enj0ltaiRe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddies_spaghetti/pseuds/reddies_spaghetti
Summary: Eddie wakes up with no memories and no idea of who he is or where he comes from.Richie, an half Russian and half English conman, might help him.(or: the Anastasia AU no one asked for, but you're getting anyway)





	In a crowd of thousands

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has completely taken over our lives in the past two weeks. We poured so much love into it and we really hope you're going to like it as much as we loved writing it. 
> 
> Find us on Tumblr at @tozier-boy and @reddies-spaghetti

Richie was holding tight onto his father’s hand as the people cheered and screamed at the top of their lungs.

It was June, the year was 1917, and Richard Tozier was ten years old.

It was unusually hot in St. Petersburg, the sky was blue and clear and he was only wearing a thin shirt, messily tucked into his worn out pants. The thrill and the excitement was running all over his body because, finally, for the first time, he was going to see the royal family. The Tsar, the Empress and their five children.

He had seen them before, obviously. He had seen the pictures on the papers and the portraits all around the Winter Palace, but never in person. He only knew what they looked like in black and white, or with light reflecting on the oil on the canvases.

Being the son of one of the cooks of the palace had his privileges, of course: he had a warm bed to sleep in at night and three meals granted a day. He could wander around the servants’ wing of the palace as much as he wanted to and run into the small garden reserved for them when it was summer. He had to work, obviously, but he wasn’t a capricious kid: he had started working the moment he was old enough to stand, helping his father and carrying around the pots and the trays, washing the dishes and sweeping the floors.

He didn't mind it.

It was all he had ever know, so he didn’t really think there could have been anything different.

He could only dream. Dream about the life that the court was living as they danced to that beautiful music he could only faintly hear through the walls, walked around in those gorgeous dresses he had only seen from afar, sparkling and glowing like stars in the sky.

His father had described them to him sometimes, when Richie had begged him for it. He had told him about the Tsar’s moustache and severe figure, about the Empress’ blue eyes and fine jewels. Richie listened to every word his father would say, hanging from them as his life depended on it. He had asked countless times about the princesses and the prince, curious to know if they knew how to play the games he played with the other kitchen kids, or if they knew how to skip the rope or jump from a bank of the brook to the other.

He was a curious child who had a lot of questions.

It was June 1917, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and Richie was about to see what he had yearned to see all his life.

If only it wasn’t for the fact that he was ten, he was tiny, and he was surrounded by much much taller people.

“Papa! I can’t see anything!” He whined, jumping up and down, trying to sneak a look at the parade that was passing by.

He let go of his father’s hand before he could even reply and got down on his hands and knees, crawling between the tangle of legs and skirts and confetti. He got up as soon as he made it to the front row and started to run, dodging in between the guards. He was sure his father was calling his name, trying to stop him, but his heart was beating too loudly in his ears for him to hear.

He kept running, pushing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and, finally, he looked up at the people standing on the float and saw them.

They were glowing in the sunlight, dressed in those wonderful, colorful dresses he had touched so many times on the canvases.

The Tsar, Nicholas, was waving at the crowd by his wife’s side. He was wearing navy blue and she was wearing yellow. The princesses were throwing flowers and trying to catch those the people in the crowd were throwing at them, giggling and beaming. Then, Richie’s eyes finally landed on the eight year old boy who was sitting as straight as a King.  His brown hair looked as soft as clouds where it curled around his ears, his baby blue jacket fitted him perfectly and his smile was serene, like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

Richie stared.

Richie bent down and picked a rose up from the ground, heart beating fast in chest as he looked up again.

“Your highness!” He called, reaching up with his hand, holding the flower. “Prince Edward!”

He kept running, trying to keep up with the parade and trying to catch the prince’s attention.

And then he smiled.

Directly at him.

Richie was sure about that. He was sure that the prince had looked down at him and that he had smiled. At him.

His eyes were blue, but Richie could have sworn that, right in that moment, they looked like golden coins.

He bowed with a wide smile on his lips, doing just like he had seen other people do before, and then pushed up on the tip of his toes, trying to let the prince take the flower he was offering him.

He never got the chance to do so.

The parade travelled on and, suddenly, with the sun in his eyes, the prince was gone. He put a hand in front of his face, as he was left blinded for a couple of seconds, but those few seconds were enough for the float to proceed and leave him behind.

All it had took for everything to disappear were a couple of seconds and the sun his eyes.

“Richard!” He heard his father’s voice in his ear and his strong arms around his waist as he picked up from the ground and carried him away. “Are you trying to get shot?!”

Richie’s eyes were still fixed on the float and never moved from it until it disappeared from his sight.

 

* * *

 

June seemed only a far away memory by the time October rolled by.

Richie didn’t understand much of what was happening, nor of what his father used to talk about with the other men in the kitchen. He didn’t understand why they whispered, or why carriages left the Winter Palace every day, but never came back.

All he knew was that his father was worried.

He had heard him talking about sending Richie back to England, back to his mother, with one of the other servants.

Richie didn’t want to go to England, why was he supposed to? He had lived in Russia all his life, for all he could remember, and he liked Russia well enough.

He lived in a palace!

He didn’t want to leave his father, nor his friends, nor anything.

England was so far away. Could have been on a whole different planet, for all that Richie knew.

Something was happening, but Richie didn’t know what that something was. He had noticed that they had been ordered to reduce the amount of food cooked per meal and that were less plates to clean but, who knew, maybe part of the court had just moved back to their respective mansions for the winter.

It was October, the night between the 24th and the 25th, it was cold already, and Richie had just turned eleven.

He was sleeping in his bed, tucked under three layers of blankets, when his father had stormed into their room with a candle holder in his hand. “Richard!”

Richie stirred in his sleep, squinting his eyes and mumbling under his breath. “Is it four already?” He asked, searching for his glasses on his bedside table.

“Come on, son, you have to get up. Come on, quickly.” His father’s voice was full of worry, and, when Richie finally found his glasses and put them on, he saw that it was way too dark outside to be four in the morning.

Then, he heard the cries.

The shattering, the yelling.

“What’s happening?” He asked, looking up at his father with eyes wide.

“They’re attacking the palace.”

He didn’t know who _they_ were.

His father pulled him up and quickly wrapped him in warmer clothes. “I’m going to keep you safe. Just do what I tell you to do, do you understand?”

Richie didn’t really understand, but he nodded anyway, clasping onto his father’s hand as they ran to the kitchens. On their way through the hallways, Richie caught glimpses of the vast, beautiful garden and saw that it was now burning down in flames.

They made it to the kitchens, and Richie was breathing heavily with panic. “Papa-”

“Stay here, hide in the larder. Do not make a single noise. If anyone comes in here, you have to stay dead silent. Do not cry for help, do not try to run away. Hide. Hide for hours, until you’re sure everything’s over.” Wentworth Tozier cupped his son cheeks and wiped his tears away with his thumbs. “Promise me.”

Richie shook his head and buried his face into his father’s stomach, wrapping his thin arms around him. “I wanna come with you.” He hiccuped, holding tight on his father’s coat.

“I’ll come back for you.” Wentworth held his son closer, and then forced him away. “Now do as I said. Please, do it for me.”

“But papa-”

“Hide, son.” He kissed the top of his head. “I love you.”

Richie wanted to cry out for him as his father ran away, out of his sight, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t cry for help, not run away. He had to hide, like his father had told him to do.

He sniffled and used the sleeve of his shirt to dry his eyes. He was a thin kid, he could have probably fitted in one of the sideboards, and that was exactly what he tried to do.

But then, just as he was about to open the closest one, he heard shouting and footsteps not too far away. His breath caught in his throat and he crawled underneath the table, hoping that the cloth was going to hide him from _their_ eyes.

Or, well, hide them.

Under the table, with his knees pressed against his chest and his clear blue eyes wide open with terror, there was a boy about his age, dressed in his pajama and barefoot. His blond curls were sticking to his forehead with cold sweat and his lips were livid with fear.

Richie looked at him and the boy opened his mouth, but he quickly pressed his palm against his lips, looking at him straight in his eyes and bringing the index finger of his free hand to his own lips.

The blonde nodded and swallowed hard behind Richie’s palm.

“Take everything you can!” A man with a raspy voice ordered, shouting.

There were at least five pairs of feet around them, moving quickly around the kitchen. There was clattering and glasses were being broken and boxes opened.

They talked about silver and crystals and supplies, filled sacks with all the could find, and destroyed what they couldn’t take with them.

Richie had no idea of how much time had passed.

Could have been seconds. Minutes. Hours.

All he knew, was that the boy in front of him had his eyes squeezed shut and that they were shivering, no, shaking with cold. The windows were broken, it was snowing outside, and the blond boy was only in his nightgown. Richie, trying to be as silent as possible, took his coat off and leaned towards the other, wrapping it around his shoulders.

The blonde’s eyes shot open and he jumped in surprise, but he immediately wore the coat and hugged himself tightly, trying to keep himself as warm as possible. He was pale, and his lips were even more livid than before.

There was sunlight filling the room, and the palace was dead silent.

Richie moved on his hands and knees, ready to take a look of what had happened, but the other boy immediately grabbed his arm, shaking his head in fear and pleading him with his eyes not to go.

“I gotta find my father.” He whispered, looking at the boy.

He shook his head again, with tears streaming down his pale, fair cheeks.  

“I’ll come back.” He promised him. “I’ll be careful.” He added, and the blonde’s grip on his arm grew weaker.

The kitchen looked nothing like he remembered it. The glasses were broken, shattered to the floor with the plates. The cupboards had been broken and the doors were hanging from them and there was water coming from underneath the sinks.

He walked carefully through that mess, holding his breath, and finally dared to look outside. There was smoke pretty much everywhere, but not a single voice coming from anywhere. He walked back inside and helped the other boy out of their hiding place.

“Careful.” He whispered, pointing at his bare foot and at the shattered glasses. “You’ll cut yourself.”

“Where is everyone?” The boy finally spoke, his voice slightly raspy and broken.

“I don’t know.”

“What happened? Who were those people?”

“I don’t know.” Richie repeated, shaking his head. “Who are you?” The blonde asked, following Richie’s footsteps.

“Richie. I work here.” He explained. “My father cooks for the Tsar. And who are _you_?” He said.

The boy stood silent for a couple of seconds. “Stanley.”

Then, he didn’t say anything else.

Neither of them said anything for a long time.

They walked around the palace in silence, looking for something and someone that could help them. Richie looked for his father, for a sign of his presence, the boy cried silently by his side as they made their way through the main  halls and rooms, avoiding to put their feet in the blood stains.

Richie didn’t want it to be his father’s blood.

“My parents-” The boy wiped his eyes and held back a sob. “My friends… Everyone’s gone.”

“My father promised me he was going to come back for me. He’ll be back.” He said, nodding his head and kneeling down when his eyes landed on a small, round object.

It looked like a music box, there were emeralds and rubies settled all over it and, right on top, it was initialed with an _E_.

“I know that music box! It’s Edward’s!” The blond boy said, with new tears welling up in his eyes. “He would have never parted with it.”

Richie looked down at the music box in his hands and thought about the first and last memory he had of the prince, about how he had smiled at him.

He wondered if that on the floor was his blood.

He didn’t want it to be his father’s, but he didn’t want it to be Edward’s as well. He wished he could have closed his eyes and opened them back again in his bed, with his father sleeping on the other side of the room.

He had never liked nightmares, but he really wished that he was having one.

He wasn’t.

And his father never came back for him.

 

* * *

 

**Ten Years Later**

It was December, the snow was falling heavily, and there were voices running between the streets of St. Petersburg.

Well, Leningrad.

Richie usually never cared much for gossip, nor paid too much attention to the rumors. He knew that people got easily bored and that they always needed something to keep their minds busy with. He had learned to ignore the whispering.

Rumors were dangerous, especially in a city where even walls had ears.

Rumors were dangerous, especially in a city as dangerous as St. Petersburg.

No, _Leningrad_.

New name, new leaders, new regime and same empty stomachs.

Richie had gotten used to the hunger, the cold and the life on the streets. It had been rough, especially immediately after the Revolution. That was what he found out it had been, as he grew a little older and started paying more attention to what was happening in the city. The October Revolution was what people called the assault to the Winter Palace. The royal family had been arrested and the Communist Regime overthrew the imperial monarchy. The royals that survived the attack had fled, hiding in other countries, away from Russia and safe in their new homes.

Now everyone was equal, or at least that what the leaders told them. Professors swept the floors and two dozen total strangers shared two small rooms, but, after all, if you hold a revolution there’s always a price to pay.

Nine months after the capture of the Tsar Nicholas, the Empress Alexandra, their five children and four members of the palace’s staff, the news of the death of them all spread around. Everyone cheered and, those who cried, had to do it behind safe walls, careful not to be seen.

Two months after that, Richie learned that his father had been executed with the royal family.

When he found out that his father was never going to be back, that’s when he had accepted that he had to make it on his own. He had started taking little jobs here and there, stealing for a loaf of bread when the change in his pockets wasn’t enough and sleeping on the rock hard ground, grip tight on a thin blanket. He learned how to take his chances and how to survive, taking care of himself and teaching Stanley how to do the same.

They had no idea of what had happened to his family, but he had mourned them as if he knew they were dead. The young Count had never had to deal with hunger or cold or fear before. He was scared, especially when the Bolsheviks promised to pay a reward to whoever would have found a noble and consigned them to the authorities.

They had been scared for a long time, but grew up together, side by side, being each other’s rock, support and partner in crime.

One has to survive, one way or another.

“Did you hear it? They didn’t find the prince’s body.”

“He could be still alive, he could have survived the massacre.”

“His grandmama said that she will pay a royal sum to the one that will find the prince and bring him back.”

 _That_ caught Richie’s attention, as he was leaning against a wall, listening distractedly to the people as they were passing by. He raised one of his eyebrows and a mischievous smirk curved his lips. _That_ was interesting. A reward for the lost prince. A disgustingly huge amount of money for the lost prince.

But where to find him? How to be sure that he was really still alive? It was going to be like looking for a needle in a field, especially since the last time anyone had seen him he was eight. How to recognise someone after ten years they had gone missing? There was no way he was going to find his highness Edward Nicolaevič Romanov.

Unless…

“Rich!” He was snapped out of his thoughts when Stan’s hand clasped down on his shoulder and a paper was being pushed against his chest. “They’ve closed another border.” He hissed between gritted teeth. There was snow in his blond hair and his nose and cheeks were flushed because of the cold. “I knew it. I fucking told you so, didn’t I? We should have got out of Russia while we still could.”

Richie looked down at the paper Stan had given him and read the title. They had indeed closed the border between Russia and Belarus, but the one between Russia and Poland was still open. They still got a way out.

He threw the paper away and put a hand behind Stan’s back, leading the way through the market. “Have you heard about what everyone’s saying? About the prince Edward?”

Stan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Please, don’t tell me that you actually believe it.” He said, shooting his friend an annoyed look. “We were there. We know. They’re gone. All of them.” Stan spoke under his breath, looking at Richie right in the eyes.

“But we don’t, do we? We don’t know what really happened that night.” Richie put his hands on Stan’s shoulders. “Listen to me: this could be a chance. The prince Edward could be our ticket out of here.”

“What are you talking about?” Stan frowned.

“All we need to do is find someone to play the part. You know, teach him what to say, dress him up and take him to Paris.”

Stan stared at him for a couple of seconds, but Richie saw something light up behind his eyes. “His grandmother’s reward.” He breathed, looking at Richie and then at the people passing by. “And we’d be out of here.”

Richie grinned and tugged Stan through the market, ignoring the vendors. “It’ll be like an act of charity. The old lady will be happy and some random street rat will become a prince. They get a happy ending, we get to get out of here and spend the rest of our lives as rich as we could be.”

“And how do you plan to leave Russia?”

“I’ll forge our papers, we’ll buy three tickets and hold auditions for the role. You are a Count, for god’s sake. You knew Edward, therefore you could teach someone else how to be him.”

He knew it wasn’t going to be easy for Stan to dig into his past like that. He knew how much his friend had struggled to leave it all behind and start again, but if he was in, then Richie was in.

Stan ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “This is completely insane, you know that, right? It’ll end in disaster.”

Richie grinned and wrapped an arm around Stan’s shoulders. “With luck it all go smoothly.” Richie said, his voice dripping confidence.

“Yeah, and with _luck_ we won’t get shot.” He deadpanned, but Richie could see that gleaming in Stan’s eyes, the very same gleam that made his eyes sparkle each time they planned a con together.

“But who else could pull it off but me and you?” Richie stopped on his track and turned to look at Stan, putting a hand behind his neck and resting their foreheads together forcefully. “We’re a team, remember? We’re brothers. You and me against the world.”

Stan closed his eyes for a moment and a small smile curved his lips as he slowly nodded his head. “We need to find someone of the right age, similar features and at least half as insane as we are.”

“Won’t be a problem. I have a good feeling about this.”

 

* * *

As dawn broke on the morning of a cold winter day in December Eddie could already make out the clattering noises of pots and pans making their way from the kitchen. As the eldest one at the orphanage, today was the day Eddie would leave the place he had called his home, and embark on a journey that could possibly change his life forever.

As the thoughts passed his mind, his hand reached down to the chain around his neck, with a small key on the end of it. Written on the key, were the words, “ _Together in Paris”_.

Paris.

Ever since he could remember, all he had ever known was the orphanage. Sonia, the germaphobic woman who ran the place, informed him that he had been found unconscious on the ground in the city of St Petersburg and delivered to her doorstep. He was eight years old, and yet he couldn’t remember anything before waking up that cold morning. Not a single thing.

The only clue that he must have had some sort of family, was the key that he wore as a necklace. _Together in Paris_. Whoever his family was, they were in Paris and somehow, now that he was eighteen and of age, he just knew that he had to find them.

He had to know who he was, who his family was.

For the past four weeks leading up to his departure, Sonia had recounted on various occasions of the work she had organised for him. A fish market was in need of a boy to help haul the products to St Petersburg, but Eddie’s mind was already made up. There was no way he was going to the fish market.

Carefully, without waking up any of the younger children, Eddie slipped out of bed and slung his pre-packed satchel over his shoulder. He crept out of the room, heading to the stairs where Sonia was already waiting for him, papers for his new job in hand.

“Remember Eddie take a-” Before she could finish the same sentence for what must have been the twentieth time, Eddie bet her to it.

“Remember to take a right at the fork in the road, yes Sonia, I know.” His voice was dull, almost in a mono-tone. “I’ll be on my way now.”

“Not even a thank you to the woman who clothed, fed, and housed you for ten years?” Sonia spat, her voice dark. “Ungrateful. You always were a thorn in my side. Always going on about your _family_ , well I am sorry to disappoint you, but you have no family.”

“I do have a family. They are in Paris!”

“And how do you expect to get to Paris with no papers or no money?” Sonia asked, “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll take a right and go to the work I so generously organised for you.”

Snatching the papers from her hands, Eddie walked to the door, “Have a wonderful life Sonia,” he muttered as he walked out of the door, his feet sinking into the snow that had fallen over night.

The slam of the door behind him caused Eddie to jump and pull the satchel over his shoulder tighter. He approached the gates and pulled it open, shuddering at the loud screech it made.

As he walked further away from the orphanage, the snow crunching under his feet. In the distance, Eddie’s eyes settled on the fork in the road, with a wooden sign in the middle. One pointing left towards St Petersburg and the right pointing towards wherever the job Sonia arranged for him was located.

There was no way he was taking a right.

Yet, what if he took a left and he never found what he was looking for?

Eddie tilted his head back, glancing up to the sky, almost begging for some sort of sign. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to hopefully clear his head. Just as he opened his eyes, the wind blew, causing the scarf around his neck to fly off his neck and towards the left. Before it could fly away, Eddie grasped it in his hands, eyes going wide as he stared down the snow covered road.

_A sign._

With his mind made up, Eddie securely wrapped the scarf around his neck and started his long walk towards the city. The nerves were bubbling in the pit of his stomach with every step he took, hoping that this road, that this journey would finally bring him home to his family, to his past.

At some point Eddie lost track of time, so when the lights of the city of St Petersburg appeared in his vision, his heart skipped a beat. This was it, this was the first stop on his journey to Paris. All he had to do was find some way to get on a train that would take him there. He dipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out the small amount of cash that he had made from sweeping the snow every winter.

Though Sonia’s words were still in the back of his mind, taunting him about having no papers, therefore he wouldn’t be able to travel, Eddie still marched on towards the station. People littered the streets, wrapped in blankets to shelter themselves from the cold, and Eddie suddenly felt overcome with guilt. He used to curse at Sonia for being so cruel, yet at least he had a bed, all these people had were a stone cold ground and each other.

As he walked, his ears latched on to some of the whispers from the people.

_St Petersburg is now Leningrad._

_The place is covered with spy’s._

_What if the rumours are true and Prince Edward did survive?_

Even though he lived so far away from thy city, Eddie hadn’t been living under a rock. He was a curious child, always listening in to Sonia’s conversations with the other workers at the orphanage. He remembered hearing her talk about when they found him, lying on the side of the road, battered and bruised from his fall. He remembered her talking about the revolution, and the execution of what used to be the Russian royal family.

Prince Edward had been the son of the Tsar, rightful heir to the throne, and he had been murdered along with his family at least ten years ago.

_So why were people beginning to believe that he was alive?_

The line at ticket booth was short, so Eddie quickly took his place and soon, he was at the front.

“Yes?” The operator behind the glass muttered, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Um, I’d like a ticket to Paris...please?” Eddie quote softly, his fingers trembling both from the cold and from nerves.

“Papers?”

“Oh, I don’t have any-”

“No papers, no ticket! Next!”

Before Eddie could answer back, he was being pushed out of the line as the person behind him handed over what he assumed was papers, immediately being issued a ticket. As he watched, Eddie’s heart sank. Sonia was telling the truth, which meant there was no way for him to get out of Russia and get to Paris.

A hand suddenly reached out and gripped onto the sleeve of his jacket, causing him to jump. An old lady stood a mere few feet away from him, beckoning him closer with a finger. “I know of someone who can help. He goes by the name of Richie, and you’ll find him at the old palace. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Eddie nodded his head, reaching deep into his pocket to retrieve some of the money to thank her, but she shook her head. “I won’t tell a soul,” he promised.

The lady just winked at him, before disappearing into the crowd. Eddie stood frozen for a few moment, before he straightened up and turned on his heel, heading in the direction of what used to be the Winter Palace. He had caught a glimpse of it earlier, it was rather hard to miss, so he knew where he was going.

Eddie picked up his pace as he walked, glancing from side to side as though everyone that he passed knew exactly where he was going and who he was trying to find. Then, as he rounded the corner, his body collided with another, sending him back a few steps.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Eddie gasped, his eyes clocking onto the gun that was secure in the man’s belt. A Red Guard.

The man rose his eyebrows at Eddie, glancing behind him, “Is everything alright, comrade?”

“Yes, yes everything is fine sir,” Eddie nodded his head. “I must go-”

“ _Comrade_. We are all equal here,” The man corrected him, before clearing his throat. “What’s your hurry?”

“It’s my first day on the job. I can’t be late, they aren’t easy to come by,” Eddie lied, trying to move past the man and continue on his way.

“Do I know you? You look awfully familiar…” The red guard pondered, raising a hand to his own chin in thought.

“I’m new. I only arrived a few days ago. We couldn’t possibly know each other,” Eddie babbled out, his heart rate picking up at the mans inquisitive questions.

“Mhm. Must be thinking of someone else then. Not to worry, on your way,” he stepped out of the way to finally let Eddie passed. Just as he stepped around him to walk by, an arm wrapped around Eddie’s wrist. “Henry. If you need anything, I am here everyday.”

“Thank you,” Eddie murmured, pulling his wrist out of his grasp and grabbing onto his satchel tighter. “Have a good day, comrade.”

As he walked away, Eddie could feel Henry’s eyes on his back until he finally rounded another corner. Once he was completely out of sight, Eddie exhaled the breath that he hadn't realised he was holding.

_That was a close one._

Eddie kept his head down for the remainder of the walk to the palace. He slipped through the gate and started the long walk through the gardens until he reached the steps at the bottom. From where he was standing Eddie could see that the doors and windows had been barricaded up, the walls vandalised with red paint.

It pained him to see such a beautiful place look so lifeless.

He approached one of the doorways, noticing that one of the wooden boards had been broken, and he pulled away the rest. He dipped his head, pulling himself into the palace through the gap and dusted himself down once he was inside. Eddie’s eyes widened at the scene before him, dust and cloths covered every surface, his breathing echoing through the empty room.

The Winter Palace was huge, and Eddie had no idea how he was meant to find Richie, or ever where to begin.

The further Eddie walked through the palace, the more his brain sent him signals that he had been here before. It was as though he recognised the patterns on the wall, or the furniture littering the halls. Each step he took caused the nagging to increase.

But how could he have possibly been here before?

What would his purpose have been in a palace?

It wasn’t until he entered the ballroom that he was overcome with a sense of déjà vu, a sense that he had definitely been here, definitely walked through these doors at some point. Everything was fuzzy, and the more Eddie thought about it, the more his brain hurt.

“Hey! What are you doing in here!?” A voice called out, bringing Eddie out of his thoughts and causing him to whip his head around.

A man was standing at the top of the stairs, a scowl on his face. He had just taken a step down when Eddie sprung into gear, turning on his heel and rushing towards the nearest exit.

“Hey wait, come back!” The man called out after him, but Eddie didn’t look back, didn’t stop running.

At least until he reached the top of the staircase on the opposite side and his eyes landed on a large portrait of what he had to presume was the royal family. Forgetting about the fact that he was being chased, Eddie let his eyes glance over the faces, stopping on the painting of the young boy, no younger than eight year old. He tilted his his head to the side, but before he could overthink it, a hand was wrapped around his wrist and turning him around. “You’re really not meant to be in...here.” The man breathed, blinking rapidly as he stared into Eddie’s eyes.

He was now standing a few inches away from him, dark brown eyes and wild curly hair, followed by another man, around the same age as him. The boy who followed, looked at Eddie as though he had seen a ghost, and turned to his friends.

“Do you see what I see?” He breathed and Eddie frowned.

“Are you Richie?” He asked, crossing his arms and staring at the two men.

The man with the curly hair looked up at him, flashing a wide cocky smile, “Perhaps...depends on who’s looking for him.”

“My names Eddie, I’m looking for travel papers, I was told that Richie would be able to help me with that.” Eddie had barely got the last word out before the man was circling him, looking him up and down. “Um, why are you circling me?”

“I’m sorry,” he spoke, running his fingers through his hair, “it’s just you look an awful lot like…” he trailed off, his eyes glancing towards the portrait.

“Like what?” Eddie asked.

“Nevermind. Now, you said something about travel papers?”

Ah, so this _was_ Richie.

Eddie nodded his head, “Yes, I’d like to go to Paris.”

Richie’s eyes widened and he looked at his friend with a wide grin, “You’d like to go to _Paris_ huh?” He tapped his fingers against his hip, “Let me ask you something, Eds, is there a last name that goes with that?”

“My name is Eddie, and no, not that I can remember. The woman at the orphanage put her last name on my work documents but that’s not really my name.” Eddie’s fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel, “I was found battered and bruised at the side of the road when I was eight, with no memory.”

“Eddie, Eds, same thing,” Richie shrugged, “But before that, before you were eight?”

“I just said that I can’t remember!” Eddie snapped and Richie glanced at his friend again.

“Perfect…”

Eddie’s fingers reached for the pendant and he he twirled it around, “But I do have one clue however and that, is Paris. So can you two help me or not?”

Richie let out a chuckle, nudging his friend who he called ‘Stan’ and accepted three tickets from him as he handed them over, “Well, funnily enough, we are in fact, going to Paris!”

Eddie perked up at that, his eyes bright and hopeful, “Really?”

“Mhmm, and I’ve got three tickets here,” Richie waved them in front of Eddie’s face and he had to restrain himself from jumping up to grab them, “But unfortunately, the third one is for him, Edward.” As he spoke, Richie pointed to the painting, to the one of the young boy.

Stan grabbed one arm and Richie grabbed the other, tugging him along. It was Stan that spoke next, grinning, “We are going to reunite His Royal Highness with his grandmother.”

“You know, you do resemble him!” Richie piped in.

“The same blue eyes!”

“Romanov eyes!”

“Nicholas’ smile!”

Richie pulled Eddie’s face towards him, fingers gripping his chin, “Alexandra’s chin!”

Stan gently took his hand, pulling up up to his eyes, “Oh look, he even has the grandmothers hands!”

“He’s the same age, the same physical type!” Richie rattled off and Eddie let out a squeak of a laugh.

“Are you trying to tell me that you think that _I_ am Edward?”

Richie turned Eddie to face him, “All I’m trying to tell you that I have seen _thousands_ of boys all over the country and not _one_ of them looks like His Royal Highness as you. I mean look at the portrait!”

Eddie scoffed, and pushed past them to walk to the stairs once more “I knew you were crazy from the beginning but know I think you’re both mad!”

“Why? You don’t remember what happened to you!” Richie said, stepping in front of him.

Stan followed behind, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“And no-one knows what happened to him!”

“You’re looking for family in Paris, and her only family is _in_ Paris!” Richie finished off. He pulled Eddie back towards the portrait. “Have you ever thought of the possibility?”

“That I could be royalty?” Eddie asked, shaking his head as Richie and Stan both hummed and nodded at him, grins on their faces. “Well I don’t know! I mean it’s sort of hard to think of yourself as a Prince when you’re sleeping on a damp floor. But yeah, I guess every lonely boy would hope he’s a Prince.”

“And somewhere, one little boy _is_ ,” Stan said to him, his smile turning softer, more genuine.

Richie gripped onto Stan’s shoulder, breaking them apart, “Really wish we could help but the third ticket is for His Royal Highness Prince Edward.” He pulled Stan away, heading towards the stairs. “Good luck!”

Eddie sighed as he watched them go, his eyes moving back to the portrait, to the boy with the blue eyes and the soft smile. Could what Richie and Stan said be true? Could he really be a Prince?

His eyes then moved to the portrait of an older lady in regal clothing. Underneath, the writing made it clear that she was the Empress, Tsar Nicholas’ mother. Edwards grandmother. Something in Eddie’s gut twisted, and with a deep breath he rushed to the stairs.

“Richie, wait!”

Richie turned around, with fake surprise painted on his face, “Did you call me?”

“So, if I don’t remember who I am, then who’s to say I’m not Prince Edward right?” Eddie asked, walking down the stairs towards him.

“Mhmm, go on?”

“And if I’m _not_ Edward then the Empress will certainly know right away and it’s all just an honest mistake!”

Richie hummed, “Sounds plausible!”

Stan interrupted then, wrapping his arm back around Eddie’s shoulders, “But if you _are_ Edward, then you’ll finally know who you are and have your family back!”

“Stan’s right! Either way it gets you to Paris!” Richie grinned, holding his hand out.

“Right!” Eddie agreed, taking Richie’s hand in a firm grip.

“Ow!” Richie muttered before another grin spread out over his lips. “May I present the His Royal Highness Prince Edward Romanov!”

Finally, he was going to Paris.

 

* * *

 

Henry was at the end of his tether. The rumours surrounding Prince Edwards apparent survival were leaving a sour taste in his mouth. All his the efforts his father had gone through, all the work, would have been for nothing if that little brat had survived. Maybe, just maybe if it had been one of the Princesses, then Henry would have been able to let it go. But the boy? The heir to the Russian Throne that his father had worked so hard to destroy? No, Henry couldn’t let the boy live. Not if he had survived.

With every step he took, the whispers grew louder. Henry was sure that the next person to mention Edwards survival would end up with his pistol to their head. As he walked, he thought back to the young man who had knocked into him earlier. The uneasiness in his eyes,  the familiar features of his face.

_No._

It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. He had been close by the evening of the siege. He had heard the screams of the family, he had heard the gunshots. There was no way any of the Romanov’s had survived.

Had that boy been the Prince? Had Henry had the brat in his grasp and let him go as though he were just a regular street rat? If so, his father would be turning in his grave. Even if the boy wasn’t alive, Henry had to make sure. He had to be sure that he was dead.

With his mind made up, Henry reached out and grabbed the next passerby who walked around the corner by the scruff of his neck.

“Tell me everything you know about the rumours surrounding Prince Edwards possible survival, or I will not hesitate to shoot you where you stand. Understood?”

The man nodded his head, fear in his eyes and Henry smirked.

Power had never felt more satisfying.

 

* * *

 

“Can you stop pushing me? I know how to walk for myself, thank you very much!” Eddie snapped at Richie, as the taller man pushed him towards the platform.

Richie rolled his eyes, but he kept his hand pressed against Eddie’s back, leading the way. “We can’t miss the train and your short, little legs are going to make us late!”

Richie heard the offended gasp that left Eddie’s mouth, but didn’t turn to look at him. The last thing he needed now was having to deal with that brat. A very useful and convenient brat, but a brat nonetheless.

“You are intolerable!” Eddie squirmed away from Richie’s touch and hurried away, walking in front of him.

Richie let out an exasperated sigh and made the motion of strangling him from behind, only for Stan to slap the back of his neck and glare at him. “Be nice to him.” He mouthed.

It was going to be a _long_ trip.

Eddie was sitting next to the window when Richie walked into the compartment, looking outside at the snowy fields with a melancholic expression on his face. Richie sat down next to him and folded his arms on his chest, throwing his legs on the opposite seat, resting them right next to Eddie.

There were a couple of moments of silence, during which Eddie barely acknowledged Richie’s presence.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Richie eventually said, looking up at Eddie and making him turn his head.

“Well, I think we did.” He said quickly. “And I’d like an apology.” He added, raising his eyebrows and shooting Richie a challenging look.

“An apology? For _what_?” Richie couldn’t believe his own ears. Eddie expected him to apologize? After he had given him the ticket to Paris, Eddie expected him to _apologize_?

“Well, for a starter, you literally ran after me, shouting and scaring me to death.” He pointed out, counting on his fingers. “Secondly, you said that I have short, little legs and I’m pretty sure I saw you pretending to strangle me in the reflection of a window.”

“I didn’t do that!” Richie lied. “And even if I did, can you blame me? You’re the definition of irritating! Look up “irritating” on the dictionary and you’ll find your picture next to it.”

“That’s presumptuous coming from you!” Eddie said, annoyed, and his shoulders slumped down.

“Would you sit up straight and not like you’re an empty sack of potatoes? You’re a prince now, so start acting like one.” Richie scolded him.

“Richie, do you really think I’m royalty?” Eddie asked, looking at him and batting his lashes in a way that made Richie blink a couple of times more than it was necessary.

“You know I do.” He said, clearing his throat.

“Then _stop_ bossing me around!”

“I’m _teaching_ you! No one’s ever going to believe you’re the prince if you sit and act like a vagabond.” He protested, slumping back against his seat.

“Ugh, just shut up, Richie, you’ll only end up making me more mad.”

“Fine, I’ll shut up if you shut up.”

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

“ _Fine_.”

Richie rolled his eyes and looked outside the window, shaking his head slightly. What the hell had he got himself into?

“Aren’t you going to miss it?” Eddie asked, not even ten seconds later.

“Miss what? Your talking?” Richie spat, narrowing his eyes.

“No.” Eddie sighed, leaning towards him and resting his elbows on his knees. “Russia. Aren’t you going to miss it?”

Richie blinked in surprise at the question. “Why would I miss Russia?” He asked, more quietly than before.

“Because it was your home.” Eddie tilted his head to the side, looking very much like a curious puppy.

“It was just a place where I lived.” He shrugged dismissively. He hadn’t really thought about it. Was he going to miss Russia? The place that had given him everything and then took it away from him at the same time?

“So now you’ll have to make Paris your new home, don’t you?” Eddie insisted, and Richie sighed.

“What’s with you and homes, uh? Nothing is forever. Everything come and goes, homes included.”

“But everyone wants a home! If you don’t have a home, you don’t belong anywhere!” Eddie protested, sitting up a little more straight.

“Maybe I don’t belong anywhere, then. Can you just drop it? I thought we had agreed on being silent.”

Eddie clenched his jaw, Richie saw it in the way his facial muscles tensed up. He stood up abruptly and pushed Richie’s legs out of the way. “You are-”

Stan opened the door to the compartment, raising his eyebrows and looking between the two of them. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh, thank god it’s you!” Eddie said dramatically, pointing at Richie. “Please, get him out of my sight! I’m begging of you!”

Stan frowned and turned his gaze to Richie. “What did you do to him?”

“Me?!” He stood up and pointed back at Eddie. “He’s the one who’s throwing a tantrum over nothing!”

“Do you ever shut up!?” Eddie snapped, and Richie laughed.

“I could ask you the very same question, your _highness_.” He bowed dramatically and Eddie stormed out of the compartment, leaving Stan and Richie alone. “I swear to god, I’m going to kill him.” Richie flopped down on his seat, massaging his temples.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to be nice to him because we _need_ him.” Stan reminded him, nudging his shoulder. “Besides, it look like he’s got quite a grip on you.” He added, teasingly.

“Are you out of your mind? That brat? A grip on me? You’re insane.” Richie stood up as well and left the compartment, heading towards the opposite direction where Eddie had gone.

A grip on him. That was _ridiculous_. There was no way on Earth that Eddie had any kind of power on him. They were going to stick to the plan, no matter how difficult Eddie was going to make it for them. He honestly couldn’t wait to deliver him like a package to the old lady, take the money of the reward and start his new life. A new, brilliant, wealthy life.

He was just walking past a bunch of passenger, when he noticed that they were holding their travel papers in their hand and that they were definitely different from the ones Richie had forged.

“Fuck.” He hurried back to the compartment, where Stan was peacefully reading a book and Eddie was sleeping with his head leaned against the window. “Stan, come on, we have to go.”

The blonde frowned and looked up at him, closing the book he was holding. “What’s going on.”

“No big deal, really. I just forgot that this government’ favourite color is red.” He hissed, throwing their now useless blue exit visas to the ground.

“Shit.” Stan stood up quickly and grabbed their bags, while Richie shook Eddie’s shoulder to wake him up.

“Eds, come on kid, wak-” He was cut off when Eddie jumped awake, slapping him right in the face. “What the-! Ouch!”

“Oh my god, sorry I’m so- _oh_.” He recognized it had been Richie he had hit, and a smirk curved his lips. “It’s just you.”

“Fucking hell, you nearly broke my nose!” Richie protested, massaging his cheek and looking at Eddie with wide eyes. The kid was small, but he sure as hell got some strength.

“Ugh, don’t be a baby.” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. Then, he saw Stan taking their bags and frowned a little. “We can’t be in Warsaw yet.”

“We’re not.” Richie said, grabbing Eddie’s arms and pulling him up on his feet. “Come on, we need to move to the front.”

“Why?”

Instead of replying, Richie took hold of Eddie’s wrist and tugged him behind him and towards the baggage car. It was way colder in there and, when he saw Eddie shivering in the thin coat he was wearing, he shrugged his own off of his shoulders and wrapped it around him. Eddie blinked and looked up at Richie in surprise, almost as if he couldn’t believe that Richie was capable of doing something nice.

“Was there something wrong with our travel papers, genius?” The boy teased, leaning into the warmth of Richie’s coat.

Stan snorted quietly as he checked that no one else was around, and Richie shot him a quick glare. “Nothing wrong, your majesty. The sight of your royal highness among those commoners was just too much to bear.” He explained, solemnly.

“So you’ve decided that the baggage car would have been more appropriate? How thoughtful.”

Richie rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak whatever witty comeback would have crossed his mind, but voices came from the other side of the door.

“There were three of them. We saw them hurrying to the baggage car.”

“They looked suspicious.”

“I bet they don’t have their tickets.”

There was a loud bang against the metal door as someone used their force to try and open it. Richie jumped and Eddie’s hand grabbed his sleeve as they all stared at it for a couple of seconds.

“Who’s in there? Open the door!” Someone, a man, shouted.

“What’s the plan, maestro?” Eddie asked Richie, wide eyes fixed on the door as they kept shouldering and kicking it.

“We have to jump off the train.” Stan said quickly. “There’s nothing else we can do.” He slid the heavy door to the outside open, and freezing cold air and snow filled the car.

“You want to jump off a moving train!?” Eddie was bewildered. If it hadn’t been for the flush on his cheeks and the red nose, he would have been as pale as death. “Are you insane? We’re going to die!”

“The snow will pillow ouf fall.” Richie agreed with Stan. Of course he agreed with Stan. Stan was never wrong.

“You two are the most-” Just as Eddie was speaking, the door yanked open and a blond red guard with his gun already in hand looked at them as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes found Eddie and widened in recognition.

“ _You_.” The red guard breathed, pushing a blond strand of hair away from his forehead. “Hands up, all of you.” He warned, taking aim.

“We’d love to stay and chat, officer.” Richie said, backing up and tugging Eddie after him. “But this is our stop!”

Before anything else could happen, Stan jumped off the train and Richie immediately after, holding Eddie’s hand.

The impact with the snow and the hard ground under it knocked the breath out of his lungs. They rolled down a slope and, when they finally came to a stop, Richie was on top of Eddie, staring down at him with wide eyes.

“Are we dead?” Eddie asked, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving. “We’re dead, aren’t we?”

“Not dead, your highness.” Richie breathed, and Eddie slowly opened his eyes, looking up at him.

“Richie…”

“Yeah?”

“Get off me.” He pushed him and Richie rolled to his side, sinking down in the snow and huffing.

Eddie stood up and brushed the snow off of his soaked clothes, shivering, while Richie sat up. “Where’s Stan?” He asked, suddenly worried.

“I’m here.” The blonde emerged from the snow, taking deep breaths and limping towards them. “Are you all okay?”

“We’re okay. Eddie is very grateful that I saved his life.” Richie shook his head and snow fell from it leaving his curls damp and plastered to his face.

“Grateful? _Grateful_? You almost got us killed! You had _one_ job, and that was forging the travel papers! Blue? Blue, Richie? Seriously? Where have you been during the last ten years of Communist Regime!?”

Richie stood up and folded his arms on his chest. “Without me, you’d still be in Leningrad.” He pointed out, and Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe that would have been for the best. This is crazy. This is all crazy and I can’t believe I let you lure me into this.”

Stan put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and sighed. “Calm down. We’ll find a place to spend the night and we’ll continue tomorrow.” He was calm. How was he calm?

Eddie seemed to relax under Stan’s touch, which made Richie clench his jaw. He turned his back and started walking, leading the way, while Stan and Eddie followed behind. They were all silent for a while, but it was impossible to tell for how long. It was dark, it was cold, and the only noise was the crunching of the snow under their feet. Now that the adrenaline had faded away, Richie could feel the cold tensing his muscles up. He could have asked for his coat back, but he wasn’t going to.

Only because he didn’t want to talk to Eddie, not because he wanted to keep him as warm as possible.

He could hear Eddie and Stan talking quietly behind him, but he couldn’t catch what they were talking about. Not that he cared, anyway. Eddie liked Stan better? Good. They weren’t supposed to be friends, anyway. Richie needed him and that was it.

Just as his feet were starting to go weak, the lights of a town came into their view.

“Finally…” Richie heard Eddie saying.

They found a room for the night. It was small and the heating non existent, there was no fireplace and the only furniture in the room was a small bed and a table. No chairs, no rug, no anything. The three of them stood on the doorway and stared at the inside of the room, visibly disappointed.

“Feels like home.” Eddie joked, and Richie smirked.

“You should take the bed.” Richie told him as they walked inside.

“What about you?” Eddie looked between Richie and Stan, taking the coats off of his shoulders and leaving them on the table.

“Won’t be the first time sleeping on the floor, your highness.” Stan reassured him.

Eddie sighed and took one of the blankets from the bed, giving it to Stan. “You’ll end up freezing if you don’t take it.” He told him, his voice soft and kind.

Richie looked away and grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his coat, before he headed to the door.

“Where are you going?” Eddie asked him, frowning.

“Out for a smoke. The dawn’s in a couple of hours, I won’t be able to sleep anyway.” He shrugged, opening the door.

“But-” He closed it before he could hear whatever Eddie was going to say.

 

* * *

 

“Are we walking to Paris?” Eddie asked as they made their way out of the town that had sheltered them for the night.

“No, your highness.” Richie sighed, sounding tired. “We will embark on a ship when we get to Germany .”

“Oh.” Eddie paused for a couple of seconds. “So we’re walking to Germany?”

He really hoped they weren’t walking to Germany. He had only slept three hours and didn’t feel well rested at all.

“We’ll catch a bus when we will arrive in Warsaw. Don’t worry.” Stan assured him. They walked in silence for a while and Eddie was afraid of blinking, because he didn’t want to miss a single thing. It was all so new to him, so exciting, that the events of the previous night seemed only a faint memory.

When they arrived in Warsaw they finally agreed on having breakfast. They stopped in a small tavern and sat down at a sticky table, but Eddie was way too hungry to care. They ordered hot coffee, bread with butter and sausages and, just as Eddie was about to dive into his plate, Richie stopped him. Eddie looked up at him with wide eyes, swallowing down the saliva that the smell of food had produced.

“Elbows in.” Richie said, raising his eyebrows. “And sit up straight, come on.”

Eddie groaned and complied, straightening up and pressing his elbows to his sides. “Good?”

“Good. Remember not to gorge the food down, no matter how hungry you are.” Richie reminded him, adjusting his posture. “You’re a prince now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and cut his food, trying to be as elegant as possible while eating, even though every single fiber of his being was begging him to slurp everything down. If he really was the prince, which was still absurd to believe, he needed to learn how to act properly. He couldn’t imagine a prince getting butter all over his hands and sausage’ grease all over his mouth, so he took small bites, ignoring his rumbling stomach.

“How about we start teaching you a couple of things?” Stan offered, pouring some more coffee into their cups.

“Like what?” Eddie frowned.

“The names of the royal family and relatives, for example. You know, in case they ask you questions when we get to Paris.” The blonde explained, as if it was obvious.

“Wait, hold on. I thought I just needed to show up, be nice and meet the Empress.” He said, dropping the fork and staring at Richie and Eddie. “I can’t lie! I don’t want to lie to her. She’s looking for the last family member she has, how am I supposed to face her and blatantly lie?” He raised his voice and Richie shushed him, eyeing the people sitting around them. “No way. No. I’m not doing this.”

“You don’t know if it’s a lie. For all you know, you really are the Prince.” Richie said, leaning forward and keeping his voice down. “We just need to refresh your memory.”

“Come on, Richie.” Eddie sighed, pointing at himself, at his baggy clothes and his messy haircut. “Do I look like a ‘Prince to you?”

Richie looked at him without saying anything, and that’s all Eddie needed. “As I thought.” He stood up and left the table, walking towards the path that led to a small, wooden bridge over a brook. He looked down at his reflection in the water, sighing as he noticed how messy his hair was, how slovenly his clothes were and how, not even in a hundred years, he could have passed for royalty. He wanted to cry, but most of all, he wanted to scream and yell.

“Are you okay?” Stan asked, joining his side.

Eddie shook his head.

“Look, I get it. It’s hard and difficult and, yes, it might sound crazy, but there’s nothing left for you in Russia now, so you might as well carry on and see what’s waiting for you in Paris.” His voice was soothing, and Eddie closed his eyes, sighing.

“What if I’m not him? What if all of this will be for nothing?”

“It’ll only mean that your journey isn’t over yet.” Stan smiled at him. “But if you _are_ him, then it’ll mean that you’re home. Isn’t that worth a try?”

Eddie bit his lower lip, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “And how do you become the person you forgot you ever were?”

“We will help you with that.”

“Richie hates me.” Eddie said, turning his head and seeing him as he walked towards them.

“He doesn’t hate you.” Stan chuckled, gesturing with his hand. “He’s just- He’s Richie.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything else.

“So.” Richie said, clapping his hands together. “What do you say, Edward? Shall we?”

Something in his stomach stirred as Richie called him Edward, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was.

Richie was smiling at him, as if nothing ever happened. Eddie couldn’t help his own lips to curve a little as he noticed how bright the man’s eyes were. “Fine, okay. Teach me how to be a prince.”

And just like that, as Stan instructed him and Richie mostly made fun of them, he not only learned the basics, but he also found out that Stan lived at the Winter Palace before the revolution as he was the son of a count. Eddie had listened to Stan’s story as he learned how to walk while balancing a book on the top of his head, and smiled at him whenever Stan got emotional.

“Did you know the prince?” Eddie asked. They were having lunch on a bus, eating bread and apples.

“I did, yes. We played together sometimes. We were friends.” Stan nodded.

“What was he like?” Eddie asked, curiously. “I mean… what was I like?” He corrected

himself, clearing his throat.

“You were a menace, honestly.” The blonde laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “You always wanted to have the last word. Sometimes you would climb up on a tree and refuse to get down until your father gave you _that_ look, then you’d behave. You threw tantrums over the silliest things, but it was endearing.”

“Charming child.” Richie said, smirking. The man was sitting with his legs thrown on the backrest of the front seat and his arms folded on his chest.

“Sounds like I was a spoiled little brat.” Eddie raised his eyebrows and intertwined his hands in his lap.

“You’re still a little brat.” Richie pointed out, and Eddie stuck his tongue out at him. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

When they arrived in Germany, it wasn’t nearly as cold as it was in Russia. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and Eddie couldn’t stop smiling.

“Who is your great grandmother?” Stan asked as they made their way to the pier through woods.

“Queen Victoria.” Eddie answered for the hundredth time, rolling his eyes.

“Why do you, your sisters and most of the court have English names?”

“My mother spent many years in London, living with her grandmother. She spoke fluent English and had a lot of connection with the Buckingham Palace.” Eddie answered again, tiredly.

“Who’s your best friend?” Stan insisted.

“My big sister Anastasia.” Eddie savoured the words in his mouth, repeating what Richie and Stan had told him to say and, for a moment, he saw a girl with strawberry blonde hair, only three years older than him, laughing loudly and waving at him. A blink of an eye later, she was gone.

“Wrong, your best friend is-” Richie interrupted, but Eddie didn’t let him finish.

“I know who my best friend is!” Eddie snapped. He knew that Richie was only teasing him, but he felt like he needed to hold on tight that little, maybe useless slice of memory for dear life.

“What a temper.” Richie said, raising his eyebrows and then laughing, which only made Eddie more mad. How dared Richie trying to contradict him on the first, vague memory that crossed his mind?

“Continuing on.” Stan sighed, rolling his eyes at the two of them.

“No!” Eddie protested. “I’ve had it, and I hate you both!” He snapped, stopping on his tracks and sitting down on a wooden bench. “I’m hungry, I’m scared and I don’t remember anything! We’re just wasting our time, so leave me alone!” His voice cracked a little from frustration, and he furiously wiped his eyes before any tear could fall.

He could feel Stan and Richie’s stare on him, but he kept staring at the dirt under his shoes with his lips pressed together in a thin line, until Richie sat down next to him.

“Go away.” Eddie muttered, refusing look up.

“Eddie.” He said quietly, using a kind tone of voice Eddie had never heard him using before. It was quiet and soft and it made Eddie feel warmer. “Eds, look at me.” Richie insisted, and Eddie complied, looking up to meet Richie’s big, brown eyes. “We’re all scared every now and then. I know that this is all new to you, and I know that it’s hard and difficult, but you’re doing great, okay?”

Eddie blinked and looked at him with a softer expression. “You really think so?”

“One hundred percent.” Richie confirmed. “Now, blow that little nose and dry those pretty eyes.” He stood up and offered Eddie his hand, which he took with a small smile on his lips. “A prince like your majesty can do this if he tries.”

Eddie smiled a little wider and, only when Stan cleared his throat, he realized that he was still holding Richie’s hand. He yanked it away, blushing and looking away.

 

* * *

 

The boat rocked back and forth with the waves and Eddie had to steady himself a few times as he moved with it. His stomached swirled and he brought his hand up to cover his mouth incase he were to throw up. They had embarked on the ship just an hour ago, and Eddie was still trying to get used to it. He wasn’t sure he liked the sea.

The nausea soon passed, and Eddie stepped out of the cabin, craving a breath of fresh air, only to bump into Richie in the corridor. He was carrying a box and a grin on his face.

“Edward! I bought you a suit!” He announced, handing it over to him with a proud smile. Eddie’s eyes widened as he picked up a suit from the box Richie was holding, opening the jacket and looking at how large the sleeves were. With a chuckle, his stuck his head inside. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the Russian Circus! I think it’s still in here!”

Richie scoffed and handed it over to him, “Just put it on and meet us on deck.” He said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he turned to leave.

Eddie watched as he walked away, his eyes lingering just that little bit longer on Richie’s retreating form before he shook his head, trying to kill the smile that was threatening to curve his lips. Richie had bought him a present. He had measured him with his eyes and bought him a suit, his very first suit. He turned, walking back into his room and changed into it, brushing his fingertips down the smooth material. Before he moved to exit the room, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He sure was cleaned up, now. No more ratty, shabby clothes hanging from his body like rags. Maybe the jacket was too big for him, but he had never felt more elegant and comfortable in his life.

He might not have looked like a prince before, but he was certainly beginning to now.

Slowly, Eddie walked up to the deck where Richie and Stan were bent over a chessboard, deep in thought. He stopped just behind Richie, clearing his throat to gain their attention and Stan glanced up, eyes wide and a grin on his face, “Oh wonderful! Marvelous! You really do look like His Royal Highness now!”

As Stan spoke, Eddie glanced over to Richie’s face, who was now standing up, making his way over to them with his eyes slightly bigger than the usual and his lips slightly parted. “You look... great, your highness.” Eddie tried not to smile, so he glanced down at the deck, hiding the warm blush that had spreaded on his cheeks.

“Now you are dressed for a ball, and you shall learn to dance for one as well. Richie, come come!” Stan grabbed Richie and tugged him over towards Eddie, bringing him to a stop in front of him.

Richie sighed, “I’m not very good at it.”

Stan pushed them closer together, and with them being up close Eddie could see just how tall Richie was and how many freckles there were on his nose and cheeks. He glanced up, meeting his eyes briefly, cheeks flushing hot as he looked away. Eddie reached his hand up and placed it on Richie’s shoulder, Richie’s own hand resting on his hip as their other hands joined together.

“One two three, one two three,” Stan moved his finger in time with the count as they began to move, but before they could get into it, Stan shook his head. “No no no, Eddie, tallest leads. Not you, let him,” he gestured to Richie.

“Alright,” Eddie breathed, resuming the position as they began a small waltz, stepping in time with Stan’s counts.

A few minutes into the dance, Richie cleared his throat and Eddie glanced up, once again meeting his eyes. This time, he didn’t look away, “That um, that suit is very nice, your highness.”

“You really think so?” Eddie asked, his cheeks heating up again, but he maintained eye contact.

“Yeah,” Richie mumbled, spinning them around the deck. “I mean, it was nice on the hanger, but it looks even better on you.” He spun Eddie under his arm and outwards, “You should wear it.”

Eddie blinked, confused for a moment, “I am wearing it?”

Richie spun him back in and Eddie was certain he saw his cheeks redden, just slightly, “Right, yes, of course. I’m just trying to pay you a- a um-”

“A compliment?”

“Of course, yes. A compliment.”

Eddie was so lost in the dance, so lost in the way Richie’s hands felt against his skin, the way their bodies were pressed so tightly together, that he didn’t notice the soft, concerned look they were receiving from Stan.

“I’m feeling a little...dizzy,” Eddie whispered after some time, his eyes blurring with how much spinning they had been doing. Slowly, he felt them come to a stop, but remaining in position.

“Maybe we should stop?” Richie suggested, his voice low, only for Eddie to hear.

“We have stopped,” Eddie breathed back, subconsciously taking a few steps closer to him.

“Eddie, I-” Richie started, causing Eddie’s heart rate to pick up.

“Yes?”

Their heads moved closer, and Eddie felt his eyes drift closed. Whatever was about to happen, had Eddie longing for it. Every single inch of his body was craving for Richie. That is, until Richie cleared his throat and took a step back.. “You’re doing fine.” He patted Eddie’s hand and moved passed him and Stan, walking back down the steps to the room.

Eddie stared after him, shock in his eyes and his mouth agape just a little.

_What the hell just happened?_

Stan cleared his throat and took a gentle hold of Eddie’s hand. “Don’t worry. It’s just Richie, being Richie.”

Eddie had no idea of what that was supposed to mean.

Eventually, as the sun set and the moon appeared high in the sky, Eddie and Stan made their way down from the deck to the room where they would be resting. Richie was already fast asleep and Stan grunted.

“Is everything alright?” Eddie asked, concerned, changing behind a board into the nightclothes that had been bought along with the suit.

“Yes, I’m just jealous. Richie could sleep through anything. It’s like he’s in a coma. The ship could capsize and he would still be asleep,” Stan moaned, settling into his bed. “Try and get some rest, your highness. Tomorrow is another day!”

Eddie moved over to his own bed and settled under the covers. Without really thinking, his eyes glanced over to Richie’s sleeping form, his dark, thick curls spread out over his relaxed  face. Swallowing, he forced himself to look away, instead to stare at the bars holding the top bunk secure.

He didn’t know when, but soon his head fell back against the pillow, sending him into a deep slumber.

_When Eddie opened his eyes, he was no longer on the boat, but in a field. It was covered in flowers and bright green grass, greener than Eddie had ever seen it before. A few feet away, four girls stood, dressed in summer dresses, fair hair tied back. A butterfly fluttered onto Eddie’s nose and he let out a giggle, capturing the girls attention._

_“Hello!” He called to them and waved, a smile wide on his lips._

_“Hi Edward!” They all called back, waving their hands in a ‘come here’ motion._

_Feeling that he could trust the girls, after all, they knew his name, Eddie rose to his feet and followed the four girls to a path. “Where are we going?” He asked, and one of them turned back. She had blue eyes and locks of ginger hair were bouncing around her cheeks._

_“We’re going to see our family!”_

_Curious, Eddie followed them, until he reached a clearing. Sitting in the middle of  it was a man, broad and regal and next to him, a beautiful woman. As they walked further into the clearing, the woman turned her head to face them._

_“There you are my dear! Come, come sit with us!”_

_The girls were already sitting on the blankets, and the woman was still staring at Eddie. He pointed to himself and this time, the man looked up. “Edward, come join us. We’ve been waiting for you.”_

_These people seemed to know him, and know him well. Eddie didn’t feel scared, or uncomfortable when around them. He felt safe and loved and secure._

_“You look so handsome my darling,” the woman spoke, taking hold of his cheeks. “So handsome, a proper tsarevich.”_

_Eddie opened his mouth to reply, to ask who she was and how she knew him, when darkness took over the clearing._

_BANG_

_Eddie jumped, his head turning towards the trees, as armed men swarmed the scene, their guns shooting down the family that were simply enjoying themselves. He let out a piercing scream, bringing his hands up to cover his ears, tears springing into his eyes as the kind woman that was looking at him with the love and the devotion of a mother collapsed on her side with blood pouring out of her temple._

_Gone was the happy feeling he felt, and in its place was nothing but fear._

_Pure, unadulterated fear._

_Suddenly, a pair of arms were around his waist, and Eddie screamed louder, “No! No stop! Put me down!” He cried desperately, kicking his legs._

“Eddie!”

_“Stop! Please! Let me go!”_

“EDDIE!”

His eyes shot open, and Richie was in front of him.

 

* * *

 

“It’s me, Eddie, it’s me.”

The rain was pouring down and the ship was rocking violently. That’s how he had woke up, when his head bumped into the wall of the cabin. He had sat up, massaging his head, and saw that Eddie’s bed was empty and the covers pushed aside. He had immediately felt overcome with fear for what could have possibly happened to Eddie. He had jolted awake and stood up, running out of the cabin without even putting his shoes on.

“Eddie!” The boy was dangerously close to the edge of the ship and, given the way it was rocking back and forth and how slippery the deck was, he could have easily fallen down in the water. Fighting the wind, the rain and the crashing waves, Richie had managed to reach out for him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him away from the railing.

“Wake up, kid, wake up, it’s me.” Richie’s chest was heaving, and he was looking down at Eddie with wide eyes. “Eds-” He cupped his cheek with a hand, while he securely kept the other around his middle.

When Eddie finally gasped and opened his eyes, Richie sighed in relief. “There you are.” He breathed. Eddie was pale and looked as scared as a doe in front of a shooting gun. “You’re okay, it was just a nightmare.”

Eddie choked back a sob and hid his face against Richie’s soaked shirt, shaking with cold and fear. “It was- It felt so real, Richie. It felt so-” He shook his head and Richie held him tighter, cupping the back of his neck and kissing the top of his head.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He said between his hair, running a soothing hand up and down his spine.

“There were so many faces. I keep seeing so many faces…” Eddie gripped Richie’s suspenders and held them tight, pressing closer against him, almost as if he was afraid that Richie was going to pull away.

“Come on, let’s go back to the cabin. You must be freezing.”

They walked back to their cabin, where Stan was still fast asleep. Richie handed Eddie a towel to dry himself up and one of his dry shirts to change into. When he was done, Richie couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Eddie wearing  his shirt on, which was definitely too big on him and reached his mid thighs. “How are you feeling?”

Eddie shrugged and sat on the bed, pulling the covers on himself and hugging his legs to his chest.

Richie sighed and sat down next to him, clearing his throat. “You know, I used to have nightmares too.” He told him, quietly, not wanting to wake Stan up. “Especially when I was a kid.”

Eddie turned his head to look at him and wiped his cheeks. “What were they about?”

“My dad, mostly.” Richie closed his eyes for a brief moment and tilted his head back, resting it against the wall. “The night when everything went to hell.”

Eddie frowned a little, but raised his eyebrows just a second later, encouraging him to go on.

“I was in the castle when the Bolsheviks attacked. I remember it as if it was yesterday.”

It wasn’t a good memory.

“Really? Was your father a Count like Stan’s?” Eddie asked, fidgeting with the hem of Richie’s shirt.

Richie huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head. “No, nothing like that. He was the cook, I was a kitchen boy. You know, cleaning dishes and pots and skinning potatoes. Nothing as fancy as Stan.” Richie scratched the back of his neck and turned to look at Eddie. “No royalty in my blood, I’m afraid.”

“What happened to your father?” Eddie asked, resting his head next to Richie’s against the wall.

“He was arrested that very night. He told me to hide and told me that he was going to come back for me, but never got the chance to.”

“I’m sorry.” Eddie looked up at him with sad eyes, which made Richie close his.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“That night… The night of the attack. What happened to Edward?” Eddie asked, chewing on his lower lip.

“You mean what happened to _you_?” Richie corrected him, and Eddie nodded slowly. “I don’t know. My father woke me up in the middle of the night. There was screaming and shooting and smoke everywhere. I don’t know what happened upstairs, as I was hiding under a table in the kitchens. That’s how I met Stan.”

“Really?” Eddie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Yeah, he was there already. Smart kid.” Richie confirmed, glancing up at the top bunk. “We hid together, and never parted ever since.”

“You love him very much.” Eddie smiled softly and Richie grinned.

“He’s my brother.” He said, meaning it. “He has been my rock, you know? After that night, we couldn’t stay in the Palace, as Stan needed to hide. We spent a lot of nights on the streets with nothing more than a thin blanket and a stolen loaf of bread. It wasn’t easy, but it would have been way worse without him.”

“Two little criminals, uh? Stealing and lying to get by.” Eddie said with a smile and without a single trace of judgment or scolding in his voice.

“We did what we had to do.” Richie smiled back, nudging Eddie’s shoulder and making him giggle. “You should sleep now. Tomorrow’s a big day.” Just as he was about to stand up, Eddie wrapped his hand around his wrist.

“Do you really think I’m him, Richie?” Eddie’s eyes were wide and filled with worry.

Richie took Eddie’s hand and kissed his knuckles, gently. “I’m positive, your highness.”

The next morning, when Richie woke up, neither Stan or Eddie were in the cabin. He frowned and tucked his shirt back in his pants, adjusted his suspenders and walked up to the deck. He immediately spotted them, standing next to each other.

“You could have woke me up, you know?” Richie called, and Eddie immediately turned to look at him, smiling wide when their eyes met.

“We’re in France.”

 

* * *

 

Paris, to Eddie, was a city beyond all compare. It was the place that he had always dreamed of, it was the place that Eddie had longed to see ever since he could remember.

Now, he was finally here.

The city was nothing compared to Eddie’s dreams, it was big and bright and people were walking around with large smiles on their faces. It was nothing compared to back in Russia, where everything was sad and cold and gloom. It was like breathing a breath of fresh air and Eddie couldn’t wait to see more.

Stan had checked them in to a small hotel, this time getting Eddie his own room so he could have privacy.

“Richie and I will be right back, your highness,” Stan spoke softly and Eddie turned his head to the door.

“Where are you going?”  
“We have to go and arrange your meeting with the Empress, we will be back in an hour at most.” Stan’s words were reassuring and Eddie nodded, closing over the door once Stan had left the room. He placed the small suitcase on the bed and took a seat, his eyes casting over the paintings on the wall and the furniture in the room.

An hour soon turned into two, and then into three. Richie and Stan weren’t back yet, and Eddie was beginning to worry that something had gone awfully wrong. Just as he stood up to make an attempt to find them, the door knocked and Stan stuck his head inside.

“Where have you _been_?” Eddie gasped, crossing the room in a hurry. His eyes landed on Richie’s immediately, overcome with relief that he was okay.

“Eddie,” Stan began, leading him across the room towards the bed. “Before we meet the Empress, we have to meet someone else first.”

Eddie blinked a few times,  his eyes darting back and forth between Richie and Stan, “Wait, what? No-one said I had to _prove_ I was Prince Edward! Show up? Fine. Wear a nice suit? Great. But _lie_?”

“What if it’s not a lie?” Richie spoke, crossing the room to stand in front of Eddie, “What if you really are him? This is just one more stop we have to make to finding out who you really are!”

A beat of a second passed before Eddie sighed, crossing his arms, “So who exactly do I have to meet?”

“As far as I’m aware, his name is Michael Hanlon. He is a young friend to the Empress, and no-one gets to meet her without convincing Mike first,” Richie explained.

“We’ll meet him first thing in the morning, but as for right now, get some sleep.” Stan patted Eddie on the shoulder, standing up from the bed and leading Richie to the door. As Stan vanished round the corridor, Richie paused in the doorway and Eddie swallowed. “Everything is going to be fine, your highness.”

Then, with a small curt nod of the head, Richie closed the door and was gone.

The following morning, Eddie was woken up before the sun had even risen in the sky and all three of them were bundled into a car that would take them to Michael’s house. Both Richie and Stan quizzed him on all the information he had been taught, making sure that they left no stone unturned. By the time they arrived at the large house, Eddie could feel a sharp pain in the side of his head, a feeling he often got when he thought too much about his past that he couldn’t remember. It was almost as though his brain was barricading the memories in, stopping them from rising to the surface.

Stan went first, clearing his throat before he knocked on the door. No less than a second later, the door was pulled open, a maid on the other side. As she opened her mouth to speak, to ask who they were, she was interrupted by a male voice.

“It’s alright, I’ve been expecting them.” The owner of the voice appeared in the doorway. A young man, not any older than Eddie or Richie or Stan, dark skin, and a smile so wide Eddie couldn’t help but smile back. Stan, who was meant to be introducing them, was frozen in place, staring at the young man with a wide eyed expression.

_Oh._

Richie moved passed Stan and offered out his hand to him, “Good morning Monsieur-” he began but the man shook his head.

“Please, call me Michael, or Mike. Come inside,” Mike stepped out of the way and allowed the three of them to step inside. Eddie gently gave Stan a nudge, who was still somewhat frozen, kicking him into gear as they were lead into the parlour.

“Michael, may I introduce you to His Imperial Highness, Prince Edward Nicolaevic Romanov,” Stan tugged Eddie forward, a gentle hand on his wrist so he was before Mike.

Mike’s eyes widened as he took him in, glancing up and down Eddie’s form, “Well you certainly _look_ like Prince Edward, but then again, so did all the others.” He circled him once, before coming to a full stop back in front of him. “Where were you born?”

“In the Peterhof Palace,” Eddie answered, earning a pleased smile from Mike.

“And how do you take your tea?”

“I don’t like tea, just hot water and lemon.”

Mike cast his eyes briefly over to where Richie and Stan were standing, “Very good. Shall we sit?” As they took a seat, the maid brought out some refreshments, and Mike turned back to Eddie. “What was your horses name?”

“Romeo.”

“Your Uncle Boris, where was he from?”

Eddie paused for a second, he couldn’t remember Richie or Stan telling him this, but something inside of him felt that he knew the answer, “Moscow.”

As the time wore on, and Mike’s questions came to an end, Eddie was sure his head was about to explode. “I just have one more question for you. This might find this an impertinent question but indulge me. How did you escape during the siege of the palace?”

From behind him, Eddie heard Richie inhale a sharp breath, and from next to Mike, Stan’s smile was gone. Yet Eddie hadn’t quite given up hope yet. The same feeling from before rose to the surface and looked up at Mike. “I- I left something behind. Something important and I went to retrieve it but- but my grandmama stopped me. We- we escaped out of a back passage and- I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything else.”

All three of them looked at Mike with hopeful eyes, until he smiled, “Well, you passed every question.”

Stan jumped up off his seat, grinning from ear to ear, “You hear that child? You did it!” He pulled Eddie into a hug as Mike picked up the tray, sitting it on the counter. Stan quickly turned around, “So when do we meet the Empress?

At that, Mike sighed, which left an uneasy feeling in Eddie’s gut, “I’m afraid you don’t.”

“Come again?” Richie asked, taking a step forward.

“The Empress simply won’t allow it,” he explained and Stan choked.

“Mike- Mike there has to be something you can do. Please just, just _look_ at him.” Stan pointed to Eddie once more. “He _is_ his Royal Highness.”

Mike paused, “Well, do you the Russian Ballet?” He turned to Eddie as he spoke, and Eddie’s eyes widened.

“I- I’ve never been,” he whispered softly and Mike smiled.

“The Empress and I just love the Russian Ballet. We _never_ miss it!”

Stan grinned, “Mike, you are a genius!”

Eddie didn’t miss the blush that rose up on both of their cheeks.

“Tell you what. Let’s go shopping. We’ll get you something amazing to wear for the Ballet tomorrow! Then afterwards, we’ll go dancing.” Mike announced and Eddie bit down on his lip to try and contain his smile.

Right then, Eddie felt like his dreams were slowly becoming a reality.

 

* * *

 

Richie wasn't particularly keen on shopping, that much was for sure. He had never been, mostly because he never had the money to spend in such a shallow way.

Eddie, on the other hand, looked like he was born for it. He followed Mike into every single store, from Louis Vuitton to Chanel, trying suit after suit on and beaming at his reflection in the mirror. It was infectious, actually. The way he was smiling, made Richie feel warm all over.

“You said you found him in St Petersburg?” Mike asked Richie as they walked on the Champs Elysees.

“He found us, actually. He already wanted to come to Paris.” Richie explained, looking at Eddie showing Stan what was in a Chanel bag. “Thank you, by the way. You're paying for everything.”

Mike made a disinterested movement with his hand, then smiled at Richie. “You'll pay me back when you get the reward money.” He grinned, and something inside Richie's stomach twisted.

“I'm starving. Can we stop somewhere for dinner?” Eddie asked, turning his head to look at Richie.

“Now, aren't you just a spoiled brat?” Richie teased, making Eddie stick his tongue out at him.

“If it was up to you, I’d have already died from starvation.” Eddie said, then turned back to talk to Stan.

“He most definitely is the Tsarevich.” Mike smiled fondly. “Same temper, according to her Royal Highness the Empress. He was quite a menace when he was a child.”

“Oh, he still is, believe me.”

Mike chuckled and clapped his hands together. “Why don’t we go to Le Moulin? It’s not far from here, but we can take the car anyway. There’s food, music and even live shows, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“I’ve never been to a club before.” Eddie said, excitedly, pleading Mike with his big eyes.

“It’s settled then.”

Richie shook his head fondly and took the bags Eddie was carrying, earning a grateful look from the boy. “You look like a child in a candy store.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Eddie asked, hooking his arm around Richie’s and looking up at him with a smirk.

“I didn’t say that.” Richie had to bite his lower lip to prevent himself from smiling.

The club Mike had taken them to was extremely crowded with elegant people, laughing and dancing and looking like they didn’t have a single care in the whole world.

Mike and Stan looked like they were completely absorbed in the conversation they were having, and Richie read the signals well enough to decide that they probably didn’t want to be disturbed. Eddie, on the other hand, was leaning his side against the backrest of his chair, looking at the people dancing with a longing smile on his lips and a somewhat melancholic glint in his eyes. The lights were reflecting in his irises and Richie was staring.

“Rich?” Eddie called, tilting his head to the side. “Are you okay?”

Richie, blushing for he had just been caught staring, looked away and cleared his throat with a sip of champagne. “Just dandy, Eds. What about you? You look a bit sad.”

“I was just thinking that I’d like to dance.” Eddie said, smiling shyly at Richie, who raised his eyebrows.

“Then go dance.” Richie said simply, setting his glass down. “You’re not chained to this table, you know?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’re an idiot.” He said, then walked to the dancefloor.

“What did I do?” Richie asked, frowning and looking as Eddie walked away.

“He wanted you to ask him to dance, you moron.” Stan laughed, leaning his shoulder against Mike’s, absent-minded. “It was pretty obvious.”

“We’re in Paris. No one would judge two men dancing together.” Mike added, grinning and glancing at Stan before he looked back at Richie.

“That’s- no, he is fine. He was probably only waiting for the right song.”

“Oh god.” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, making Mike chuckle by his side.

Richie turned to look at the dancefloor and, just as he stood up, he saw Eddie holding a young girl’s waist as they danced together. She was about his age, with short, blond hair and a little cap on her hair. Richie clenched his jaw and, turning his head, asked a woman to dance with him, offering her his hand. She ducked her head and blushed, standing up and taking Richie’s hand. Once they were on the dancefloor, Richie put a hand behind her back and pulled her closer, waiting for her to adjust her position before they started to dance.

Throughout the whole song that the orchestra was playing, Richie didn’t look away from Eddie once, just as Eddie didn’t look away from Richie.

When the song ended, he excused himself from the woman and walked back to his seat, finishing his glass of champagne. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel.” He said, setting his glass down and taking his coat from the backrest of the chair.

“You’re leaving already?” Stan asked, frowning a little.  
“Yeah, I’m quite tired.” He wore his coat and ducked his head as a goodbye, leaving the club and walking back to the hotel, lost in his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

_People screaming._

_People running._

_Flashes of flames._

_Arms tugging at his clothes and a woman screaming for them to hurry up._

Eddie’s eyes flew open and he sat up in the bed. Beads of sweat trickled down his face from his hairline and he reached up a hand to wipe them away. At least this time his subconscious kept him in bed. It was still dark outside, the bright lights of the city shining in through the thin curtains. He slipped out of bed and walked over to the basin that contained some water, splashing his face.

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts, and Eddie frowned, wiping his face with a towel and walking over to the door to open it. Richie was standing on the other side, wearing his pajamas and with a hand on the back of his neck, worry in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, your highness, I thought I heard-”

“It was just a nightmare,” Eddie explained, voice soft as he pulled the door open more, allowing Richie to step inside. “Minus the sleepwalking, this time.”

Richie let out a soft chuckle and he closed the door over, crossing the room and taking a seat on the bed. Eddie watched him, his eyes soft and he moved to sit next to him. Richie glanced up, their eyes meeting almost instantly, “Do you want to talk about the dream?”

Shaking his head, Eddie sighed. It was really no use talking about the dream, especially since he could barely remember it now. Richie didn’t speak, didn’t push him to talk, but Eddie wanted to talk. He wanted to tell Richie about his life, the life he remembered.

“They found me at the side of a railway line.” He started, catching Richie’s attention. “I was all battered and bruised and I couldn’t remember my name apart from Ed, so they called me Eddie. It was simple, it wasn’t complicated. They brought me to a hospital nearby and fixed me up before shipping me off to an orphanage outside of St Petersburg.” Eddie pulled his knees up to his chest and sat his chin on top. “The other children there used to make fun of me, Sonia used to say I was foolish for believing that I would find my family one day, that my memories would somehow come back to me.”

“Do you remember anything more now than you did back then?” Richie asked.

“It’s all so vivid. I- all I have is this chain around me neck, and the words ‘together in Paris’. I don’t know who gave it to me, or when, or why. I used to dream of a city, of a bridge, of lights and Paris was the only connection I had to those dreams. Then sometimes, there would be this...voice. Soft, gentle and kind. It would whisper, ‘I’ll meet you right there, in Paris’” Eddie let out a soft breath, tilting his head to the side so he could see Richie. “I know it’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous.”

Moving his chin from his knees, Eddie brought himself back into an upright position, “I know I’ve asked you this before, but, do you really think I’m him? Do you really believe that I’m the lost prince?”

Richie was silent, but only for a moment, “I want to believe that you’re the same little boy that I saw all those years ago…”

“I- I don’t understand?” Eddie whispered, confusion clear on his face.

“It was the June of 1917, I was ten years old and even though I worked in the kitchens, I had never laid eyes on any member of the royal family before. Not in person anyway. There was this parade, all of the people of St Petersburg were there, crowds upon crowds of thousands. I was with my father, and I wanted to get a better look, so I ducked under the feet of the people, and onto the road. That’s when I saw him, Prince Edward. He was so regal looking, only eight years old and all I wanted was to say hello. So I ran, I ran towards the carriage, screaming his name at the top of my lungs, begging for him to just spare me a glance. Then I reached out my hand, and he looked at me, right in my eyes, and he smiled at me.”

Eddie’s eyes were wide in awe, as Richie spoke he could really _feel_ the emotion, “Wow, you’re making me feel as though I was there too.”

Richie chuckled, “Maybe you were, make it part of your story.”

Eddie closed his eyes, tried to imagine that he was there, at that parade. That he really was Prince Edward. “It was a really hot day, not a single cloud in the sky. It was just a normal parade, nothing special about it, that it, until this boy came out of nowhere. Out of all the people that had come out to see us, this boy made himself seen. He was thin, a little bit dirty, and there were guards but that didn’t stop him.”

Then, the feeling from before was back, the same feeling he got when he talked about how he escaped the palace. His eyebrows settled into a frown and he stood up from the bed, but he kept talking, scared that if he stopped he would forget, “Then the boy started running, along the road in the heat. I could see him out of the corner of my eye and I tried to keep my face straight but as he reached out his hand I couldn’t help but smile.” Eddie sucked in a breath, his eyes wide as saucers, “And- and then he _bowed_.”

As he spoke, Richie stood up off the bed, moving over to where Eddie was standing. He stopped a few feet away, “I didn’t tell you that...”

“You didn’t have to,” Eddie breathed, “I- I remember!”

At the same time, both of them turned to face each other. In Richie’s eyes Eddie could see recognition and shock. “The parade kept moving, and the sun was so bright that- it shone in my eyes and then you-”

“You were gone,” Eddie whispered, finishing Richie’s sentence softly. At some point, they had moved closer together and Eddie could feel his eyes filling with tears as Richie reached up with his hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. Richie’s face was mere inches away from each other. One small move and their lips would be pressed together, and oh how did Eddie want that to happen.

His eyes drifted closed, the ghost of Richie’s lips apparent on his own as he rested his hands against Richie’s chest. Just one tilt of the head, that’s all it would take. Just as Eddie was about to make the final move, Richie was gone, putting as much space between them as possible. A small, quiet noise broke out from the back of his throat and he opened his eyes. Richie looked torn, but as his eyes rose up to meet Eddie’s confused ones, his expression changed into a somewhat stoic one.

Then, taking Eddie by surprise, Richie crossed one hand over his stomach and bent his body forward into a bow, “Your Highness.”

“Richie-”

Eddie watched as Richie dipped his hand into the pocket of his pants and produced a box. His eyes widened as Richie placed it into the palm of his hand. “I found this, in the palace, after the siege. It belonged to Edw- it belongs to you.”

It was small, coloured in green and gold. Deep down he felt like he had seen it before, and as he raised his head to ask Richie, the question died on his lips.

Richie had gone.

 

* * *

 

Just as he stepped out of Eddie’s room, Richie took a deep breath and rubbed his palms against his eyes.

He couldn’t believe it, but, at the same time, he could.

Eddie was the prince. Eddie, _Edward_ , really was the lost Tsarevich of the lost Russian Empire, which meant that he was finally home and that he was finally going to find out all about his past, maybe even remember it.

He had found the prince. The same boy that had smiled at him from that carriage when he was only ten, and that he thought he was never going to see again. He had found him, and now he was just about to lose him again, once for all.

He didn’t need to be reminded that someone like him, an alley cat, and harbour rat, couldn’t do as much as breathe the same air of a Prince.

He shook his head and ran a hand through his tangled curls and, just as he was about to open the door to his bedroom, he heard giggling and steps. He turned his head to his right and saw Mike bowing and kissing Stan’s hand, which made his friend beam and bow in return as Mike stepped away and left. When Stan finally acknowledged Richie’s present, he blushed and cleared his throat, loosening the tie around his neck.

“I thought you were sleeping.” He put his hands in his pockets and waited until Richie opened the door before they both walked inside the room.

“Eddie had a nightmare.” Richie explained, closing the door and fixing himself a glass of whiskey. “Want one?” Stan nodded and he filled the bottom of another glass, handing it to his friend.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s nervous.” Richie took a sip of his drink and looked at Stan. “He is the prince.”

“Of course he is. He is perfect.” Stan smiled, but Richie shook his head.

“No, Stan, he _really_ is the Prince.” He said, quietly. “He remembered something that only the Prince could now. We found Edward Romanov.”

Stan blinked rapidly, then his lips stretched in a wide smile. “But… that’s amazing! This means that he is finally home and that he will be finally reunited with his family!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah.” Richie nodded and finished his drink, holding the glass tight. “It’s the perfect happy ending.” He said, even though he didn’t sounded happy at all.

Stan shot him a knowing look, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. “What about you?”

“What about me?” He frowned, refusing to look at him.

“What about your happy ending?”

Richie scoffed and shook his head, setting the glass down and pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Princes don’t fall in love with kitchen boys.” He simply said, finally looking at Stan with a blank face. “That’s just how things are.”

“And what about kitchen boys that fall in love with Princes?” Stan asked again, making something inside Richie’s stomach stir.

He could have denied it. He could have laughed and made a joke about it, calling Stan mad and drop the subject just like that, but what would have been the point in that? He was in love with Eddie. He had probably been in love with him all along, without even realizing it. He was in love and well aware that, no matter how much he longed for it, he was never going to have him.

“They’re fools.” Richie hissed, turning his back and  squeezing his eyes shut. “We will carry on just as we had planned. As far as Eddie is concerned, we had always believed that he was the Tsarevich, are we understood?”

“Rich-”

“Are we?” Richie cut him off, turning to look at Stan with his eyebrows raised.

Stan sighed and nodded his head. “Yes. Fine. Just as we had planned.”

 

* * *

 

The following evening was the Ballet, and Eddie spent most of the day in his room, fiddling with the music box and recounting his new memories.

What if the Dowager Empress didn’t recognise him?

What is she called him a fraud and turned him away?

What would Eddie do then?

His thoughts were cut off by a light knock on the door and Eddie pulled on his jacket, opening the door to reveal the two men who had brought him on this journey. Stan had an expression on his face that Eddie couldn’t figure out. He moved his hand over his stomach, similar to Richie the previous night, and he moved into a bow. “Your Highness.”

Without saying a word, Richie offered out his arm, to which Eddie accepted and they made their way down to the lobby of the hotel, and out into the car that was outside. The drive to the Opera house was short and when they arrived, Mike was already outside waiting for them.

The audience were piling in, the lobby of the Opera House becoming more and more crowded by the second. Subconsciously, Eddie moved his body closer to Richie, and he felt him move them through the crowd until they reached the foot of the stairs. “Go on up, I’ll be with you in a moment,” Richie murmured.

Eddie nodded his head, stepping away from Richie and making his way up the stairs. The butler held out his arm, waiting for Eddie to hand over his coat, which he did so. He brushed his fingers down the black suit, a much more expensive one than the one Richie had bought for him for their arrival in Paris. “Thank you.”

He turned his head to make sure Richie was following behind him, but as he did so, he saw Richie frozen at the foot of the staircase, looking up at him with wide eyes, and a dropped jaw. He tilted his head to the side, and Richie shook his head quickly, rushing up the stairs and taking his arm.

“So we’ll wait until after the performance, and then I’ll take you to the room, introduce you and then you’ll meet the Empress,” Richie explained as they walked to their seat. As they sat down, Eddie watched as Richie’s eyes clocked onto something, or someone in the crowd. “There she is.”

“Who?”

“The Empress, here,” Richie handed Eddie a small pair of binoculars and discreetly pointed in the direction of where the Empress was sat with Mike. Stan had agreed to wait outside until everything was over, afraid that by having too many people it might made Eddie uncomfortable.

Eddie looked through the small glass holes, his eyes landing on a regal looking woman, seated in a box near the stage. A soft, hopeful smile made its way onto Eddie’s lips and he sighed, “Oh, I hope she remembers me…”

As he spoke, the lights dimmed and the curtain rose. All throughout the performance, Eddie’s thoughts were trained on the meeting that would happen afterwards. His fingers scrunched up the programme in his hands, and he began ripping it up into small pieces of paper on his lap.

Just as he was about to rip up another piece, Richie pried his hands away, lacing their fingers together and bringing their joint hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles. “Eds, don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

Eddie believed him. Eddie trusted Richie with every fibre of his being.

As the final curtain drew, Richie stood up and with their hands still joined, he pulled Eddie up too, “Come on, it’s time.”

The nerves were back, flooding Eddie’s whole being as they walked along the corridor to the box where the Empress and Mike were waiting for them. “I- I don’t think I can do this, Rich.

“Yes, yes you can,” Richie declared, turning back and taking Eddie’s face into his hands, staring deep into Eddie’s eyes and leaving him a little breathless. “You can do this. You’re His Imperial Highness. You’re going to be great. Take a deep breath, everything is going to be just fine, I promise.”

Eddie brought his lip between his teeth, gnawing on it worriedly. Just like they planned, Richie knocked on the door first, planning to introduce him to the Empress. Before Richie could walk in though, Eddie grabbed his arm, “Richie…”

Richie turned around, his eyes wide, “Yes?”

“Look, we’ve been through a lot together and-” Eddie cut himself off, not really sure where he was going with this.

“Yes?” Richie prompted him again.

“And I just wanted to…thank you, I guess. For everything.” He finished up.

Richie looked...disappointed, but only for a moment, as he turned away to head to the door. Then he turned back around, “Eddie I-”

Eddie turned his head back, “Yes?” He asked, hopeful.

“I- I um,” Richie fumbled over his words and Eddie took a step closer.

“Yes?”

“I want to wish you good luck, I guess,” Richie finished and Eddie felt his shoulders deflate. “Yeah,” Richie held out his hand and took Eddie’s, shaking it firmly. “Good luck.”

They paused for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes, and Eddie silently prayed that Richie would say something more. Instead, he cleared his throat and fixed his jacket. “Well. Here goes,” he said, walking to the door.

As he stepped inside, however, the door didn’t fully latch, leaving it open a crack. The voices inside were loud, and Eddie couldn’t help but step forward, listening in.

 _“Please inform the Dowager Empress, that I have found her grandson. His Imperial Highness, the Tsarevich Edward Nikolaevi_ č _Romanov is waiting to see her just outside the door.”_

Eddie could pick out Richie’s voice, but soon, many people were talking, the voices mingling together. Then, for a short while, everything was silent, but only for a short while. Soon the voices were back, louder this time, more harsh.

_“I’ve heard about you, men who train young men in the art of pretending to be my grandson, but I tell you, no more!”_

This was a new voice, an older voice. Eddie knew that it must have belonged to the Empress. Her words settled in his mind and he frowned. What did she mean by that?

_“Your royal highness if you’ll just listen!”_

_“Aren’t you listening? I’ve had enough! I don’t care how much you have fashioned this boy to look like him, sound like him or act like him. At the end of the day it never is him!”_

Tears pooled at the edges of Eddie’s eyes and he sniffed, moving closer to the door.

 _“This time it_ is _him!”_

_“Richard...I’ve heard of you. You’re that conman from St Petersburg who was holding auditions to find an Edward lookalike!”_

Eddie’s eyes widened and he brought a hand up to cover his mouth in shock. Richie had been holding auditions? Richie was only trying to find some random man to play the part of a prince to trick a poor old woman out of her money?

As the realisation settled in his stomach, the shock vanished and made way for anger. How foolish of him. How foolish and naive was he to believe that he could have been royalty. At the end of the day, he was nothing more than an orphan.

The door to the room burst open then, and the security tossed Richie out of the room, landing at Eddie’s feet in a heap as they closed the door. Eddie glanced down at him, his eyes hard and cold. Richie looked up, and he in that moment, he seemed to realised that Eddie had overheard the whole conversation. “Eddie-”

“It was all a lie, wasn’t it?” Eddie whispered, barely able to find his voice.

“No- no Eddie-” Richie scrambled to his feet, reaching out for him.

“You _used_ me! I was just part of your con to get her money?” Eddie moved closer, getting right into Richie’s face.

“No! No listen Eddie-” Richie started and Eddie sighed turning his back to him and walking away, “No wait, Eddie it may have started out that way but everything’s different down because you really _are_ Edward! You are!”  
“Richie stop it!” Eddie snapped, spinning back around. “From the very beginning you _lied_!” He pushed his hands against Richie’s chest, sending him back a few inches. “And I not only believed you I- I actually- _ugh!_ ” He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair.

“Eddie please!” Richie moved in front of him again, “When you remembered that I bowed at the parade, that really happened! No-one else knew about that other than the Prince! Eds, just listen to me-”

“ _No_! I don’t want to hear about anything I said or remembered! You just leave me alone!” He yelled, trying to barge past Richie once more, needing to get out of there. Richie however, wasn’t giving up as he wrapped a hand around his arm, pulling him back. Eddie’s eyes darkened, and without much thought, he pulled his hand back and smacked Richie so hard across his face that his hand stung before he stormed away from Richie, tears streaming down his face.

How stupid had he been? To believe a bunch of lies. This whole time, and Eddie hadn’t even bothered to ask Richie or Stan why they wanted to find the lost prince and reunite him with his grandmother. It was all a con for her money, and Eddie had simply been a pawn on the chessboard.

Well, not anymore.

 

* * *

 

His whole face was burning. He had seen the slap coming, but didn’t expect it to be so painful. He cupped his own cheek, feeling it hot and stinging under his palm, as he stared at the hallway that Eddie had just walked through. Everyone was looking at him, he was well aware of that, but it wasn’t like he cared.

He had just lost the most precious and important thing in his life forever.

If Eddie wanted to hate him, Richie wasn’t going to blame him. He was right, after all. He had lured him into their plan, teaching him what to say and how to act. The fact that he had fallen in love and found out that Eddie _really_ was the Tsarevich didn’t matter. The mere fact that he had planned to swindle an old, desperate lady to get her money was more than enough to deserve to be hated, but no. They hadn’t come that far to give up. Eddie was the Prince, and Richie was going to reunite him to his family, no matter what it was going to take.

He left the building and waited by the Empress’ car, tapping his foot on the ground nervously. Just when she stepped outside, elegant and looking as cold as stone, Richie rounded the car and sat down on the driver’s seat as he was helping the woman in side. When the door closed, Richie started the engine and drove as fast as he could to the Hotel.

“My, Julien, would you slow down?” The Empress demanded, and Richie turned to look at her for a brief moment.

“I’m not Julien, your highness.” He said, and she gasped.

“You!”

“Yes, me. I’m not going to leave you alone until you’ve met that boy.” Richie said, almost angrily, as she ignored every single red light.

“This is unacceptable! You’re insane! I’m going to have you beheaded!” She screeched, and Richie pulled over in front of the Hotel, hitting the breaks violently. He stepped out of the car and opened the door for the Empress, bending down to look at her.

“You can call the police, you can have me beheaded. Just, _please_ , go meet that boy.” He said, his voice much more quiet this time.

“What for? It’ll only be a waste of my time.” She hissed, refusing to look at Richie. “You just want the money. You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything you love and care about.”

Richie wanted to tell her how wrong she was, but what would have the point been in that?

“My lady,” Richie sighed, dropping on one knee. “I know that you lost everything, but so did he. If you don’t go to him, you’ll lose the chance to have a family again. His parents and sisters are dead. He only has you.”

She finally turned her head to look at him, narrowing her eyes. “You are a stubborn young man.”

Richie grinned and bowed his head. “Just wait until you meet Edward.”

 

* * *

 

A knock on the door brought Eddie out of his furious packing. He froze up, eyes dark and cold, “Go away Richie!” He called, throwing some clothes into a suitcase. Behind him, Eddie heard the door opening and closing.

He let out a sigh, all the anger and frustration gone, leaving only sadness, and he turned around expecting to be faced with Richie or even Stan. Who Eddie wasn’t prepared to see, however, was the Dowager Empress herself. “Oh! Oh I am so sorry your highness, I thought to you were-”

The Empress walked inside the room, closing over the door and staring at Eddie with a harsh look in her eye, “I know exactly who you thought I was, my question is, who are _you_?”

Eddie paused, looking between the Empress and the floor, “I was hoping you could tell me,” he settled on eventually, voice soft and tired.

“My boy, I am old and I am tired of being conned and tricked,” she explained, walking past him and over to the window.

“I don’t want to trick you,” Eddie breathed with a shake of his head.

“And I suppose the reward money doesn’t interest you either?”

Eddie shook his head once more, “Up until an hour ago, I didn’t even know there was any reward money to be claimed for. I just want to know who I am.” He took a very small step towards her, “Whether or not I belong to a family, _your_ family.”

The Empress turned back to face him, something glazed in her eyes that Eddie couldn’t place, “You’re a very good actor. The best yet in fact but, I’ve had enough.” She moved past Eddie once more, and as she did so, he inhaled a scent that he hadn’t smelled in a long time.

“Peppermint,” he breathed.

“The oil, for my hands.” The Empress explained on her way to the door.

“That- that’s right. I spilled a bottle, the carpet was soaked and it forever smelled of peppermint, like you!” Eddie mused, leaning his frame against the wall, looking out onto the balcony. He turned back her, his eyes filled with tears, “I used to lie on the rug and oh how I missed you when you went away. Here, to Paris.”

The Empress looked at him in awe, eyes wide as she took a seat on the futon. Eddie slowly walked over to his suitcase, pulling out the music box that Richie had given to him the previous night. “Do you remember the last time you saw, Edward?”

“Of course I do,” the Empress looked at him, her eyes sad and full of heartbreak.

“We escaped out of one of the back passages after the siege on the palace. You followed me back to my room because I had forgotten the music box you had given me.” Eddie held out the very same box. “This music box.”

“Come sit,” the Empress breathed, shock in her tone. As Eddie sat down, she reached out for the chain around his neck. “What is that?”

“This?” Eddie pulled it out from inside his shirt, “I’ve had it since before I can remember.”

“May I? She asked, and Eddie obliged, pulling off the chain and handing it to the Empress. “It was our secret, my Edward’s and mine.” She picked up the music box, inserting the small key into the bottom and winding it up. Suddenly the room was filled with a tune, a familiar tune.

Then, in that moment, Eddie remembered. He opened his mouth, singing the lyrics to the tune, being joined by the Empress. His grandmother.

_“Hear this song and remember. Soon you’ll be, home with me. Once upon a December.”_

“Oh Edward. My Edward,” she breathed, pulling him into a tight hug. Eddie buried his head into the crook of her neck, clinging to her tight as though she would vanish if he let go. “What took you so long?”

“Does it matter?” Eddie breathed into her jacket. “I’m here now. It’s never too late to come home nana.”

Finally, Eddie had found his family.

 

* * *

 

 

“Ten million roubles, as promised. And my gratitude, of course.” The Empress said, opening a bag filled with cash. Maybe, if his life hadn’t changed so much in those weeks, the sight would have made his mouth water and his eyes glow, but now, after everything that had happened, he almost hated the sight and what it meant.

“I accept the gratitude, your highness.” Richie said with a bow. “But I don’t want the money.”

The Empress raised her eyebrows and put an absent minded hand on her heart. “You don’t want the money?” She asked, taken aback. “What do you want then?”

Richie swallowed down the lump in his throat and provided the woman with a polite smile. “Unfortunately, your majesty, nothing that you can give me.” He moved to leave, but the Empress stopped him, raising her hand.

“You found my dear Edward. You came all the way from Russia, and now you want to leave without getting anything in return?”

Richie looked down at his feet and forced a smile. “The fact that Edward’s finally home, safe and sound, is the biggest reward I could get.” Richie said, meaning every single word.

She looked genuinely surprised, which gave Richie the time to bow one last time. “I wish you farewell, your royal highness.” Richie greeted, and then left the Empress’ studio.

 

* * *

 

“You’re leaving?” Stan asked, and Richie jumped a little, caught off guard as he was putting his clothes in his suitcase.

“Yes, actually. I am.” Richie nodded his head.

Stan was dressed in a fine suit and there was a shining medal on his jacket. He had finally got his title back, which meant he could stay and be one of the royals again. Richie had never seen him happier.

After a sleepless night, Richie had decided that it was for the best for him to leave. What was the point in staying, after all? He closed his suitcase and straightened up. Everyone was where they belonged. At that point, Richie was only the stone in the royal’s shoes.

Stan blinked and frowned a little. “Where to?”

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe back to Russia, maybe to England. Maybe I’ll just buy the cheapest train ticket and see where it takes me.” He tried to smile, he really did, but then he saw the look on Stan’s face and he had to look away. “I can’t stay here.” He murmured, shrugging his shoulders. “There’s nothing for me here.”

“That’s not true! What about me? Mike? Eddie!” Stan folded his arms on his chest and fought to keep composure.

Richie let out a bitter laugh and shook his head, tucking his old, baggy shirt in his pants and pulling the suspenders on his shoulders. “You are where you belong. You found Mike.” Richie pointed out, making Stan blush slightly. “Eddie rightfully hates me, he is home, he is  a Prince. You both have found what you were looking for. You’re home.” Richie put his hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“But what about you?”

“I’ll just have to keep looking.” Richie squeezed Stan’s shoulder when he saw the tears in his friend’s eyes. “We’ve been through thick and thin, haven’t we?” He smiled softly, while Stan nodded, choking back a sob.

“Yeah. You and me against the world.”

They both laughed, trying to push the pain they were both feeling back. “You’ll be fine.” Richie said with a nod.

“You’ll always be my brother, Rich.” Stan promised, holding onto Richie’s shoulder as well. “This is no goodbye, okay? We’ll keep carrying each other until we say goodbye on our dying day.”

A tear rolled down Richie’s cheek as he pulled Stan into a tight hug.

Richie had expected it to be painful, he just hadn’t expected it to be _that_ painful. He had spent each and every single day in Stan’s company since he was eleven. He knew him better than he knew himself, and Stan knew him better than anyone else in the whole world. Yes, they didn’t share the same blood: they would have lived different lives, living in different places with different people, but they were brothers. No question. Stan was back home, living that glittery life he had lost, and Richie was happy for him, because Stan deserved the world.

So what if he didn’t have any money, any title or not even a place to call home? The two people he had loved the most were finally were they were supposed to be, and Richie had helped to get them there, no matter how many mistakes he had done along the way.

“I’ll miss you.” Stan breathed through his tears, holding Richie a little tighter. “Fucking hell, Rich. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”  Richie pulled away after a couple of seconds, wiping his eyes and smiling at him. “Didn’t want to get your nice jacket all wrinkly.” He tried to joke, making Stan scoff and roll his eyes.

“Fuck my nice jacket.”

They both laughed for a moment, then smiled at each other. “Until the next time.” Richie said, offering Stan his hand to shake.

“Until the next time.”

Richie picked his suitcase up and headed to the main entrance of the Palace. What he hadn’t expected, was to find Eddie climbing up the stair, dressed up in a black suit and a red waistcoat.

“Hello, Richard.” Eddie said, tilting his chin up.

Richi stopped on his tracks before the walked down to be on the same step where Eddie was standing. “Eddie.” He greeted as well, gaining a scoff from one of the butlers.

“Young man, would you bow before the Prince and address him as royalty?”

“No, please, that’s not-” Eddie started to say, but Richie cut him off by raising a hand and bowing.

“Of course. Your highness.”

“You’re leaving?” Eddie asked, frowning a little as his eyes lingered on the suitcase. “Where are you going?”

Richie looked down at his suitcase as well, then back up at the Tsarevich. “England, I think. Maybe my mother’s still alive.” He answered, and Eddie nodded his head.

“I guess the reward money will pay you a nice first class ticket.” Eddie hissed, and Richie could clearly hear the venom in his words.

It hurt a bit.

“My business here is done.” He said simply, picking his suitcase up and bowing again. “I’m glad you found what you were looking for, your highness.”

“You too.” Eddie said with a nod, and Richie finished walking down the stairs, before he turned one last time to look at Eddie. He tried to fix into his memory every single little detail, from the little mole on his cheekbone, darker than his freckles, to the way his feet were perfectly aligned, just as Stan had taught him to stand.

He turned to pick up a flower from one of the vases that followed the staircase under Eddie’s puzzled expression and handed it to him.

“Never got the chance to give you one during that parade.” He said looking at him.

Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise and swallowed hard before he reached up to take the rose from Richie’s hand. He looked down at it for a brief moment, almost as if he was trying to figure out what to say or whether he was supposed to thank him or not, but Richie didn’t give him the time to think any further.

“Goodbye.” He breathed, and then finally left through the main door, squeezing his eyes shut as the doors closed behind his back, shutting that glittering life out of his own forever.

 

* * *

 

Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, Eddie wasn’t sure who he was looking back at him. After spending any minute possible with his grandmother, his memories had all come back in fragments, and now, he could remember almost everything. He finally had his family, the home he had always wanted.

Yet. Something was missing.

His mind cast back to Richie. Their final parting words swirling around in his brain on a loop.

_“My business here is done.”_

Was that really all Eddie was to him? Business? Had he really only imagined the touches, the lingering looks, the almost kisses?

The door opened, bringing Eddie out of his thoughts and he turned to see his grandmother in the doorway. “I’ll be out soon, nana. I promise.”

“I just came by to check up on you,” she said, closing over the door. “And to ask where that young man of yours is.”

Eddie’s head shot up, and he met his grandmother’s knowing expression, “He- he’s _not_ my young man.”

“If it’s not plain to you that he-”

“He’s not my young man, nana.” Eddie said more firmly, turning his head away.

“When he refused the reward for finding you I thought ‘Edward has found himself a keeper in that one’.” As she spoke, the words settled in Eddie’s mind and he turned around with a shock filled expression.

“Richie refused the reward?” Eddie asked, heart beating hard in his chest.

“You are Edward. He said _that_ was his reward.” She walked towards him and took his hands. “You have made this the happiest moment of my life, Edward. Make sure it will be yours as well, Eddie.” His nana smiled softly, taking his face in her hands, “We will always have each other, no matter what you decide.” Then, with a light kiss on the forehead, she left him alone with his thoughts.

Richie was in love with him?

Was he in love with Richie?

Deep down, Eddie knew that he was. He was in love with Richie, and maybe he always had been. Ever since he saw him as a little boy, chasing after the parade.

With his mind made up, Eddie turned around to make his way to the door. As he did so however, he saw he was no longer alone. A man, a familiar man stood in the doorway, his hand reaching out to close it over and bolt it shut.

“Henry,” Eddie breathed. “You- you were the red guard from St Petersburg.”

“And you are his Imperial Highness,” Henry spat back. “None of the Romanov’s were to have survived the execution. None of them, and yet here you are.”

Eddie stumbled back, his back hitting the wooden dresser. Henry pulled out a pistol from under his jacket and the click sounded through the room. “Henry you- you don’t have to hurt me.”

“Don’t you understand!? My father was the one who delivered the shots that killed your family. It was for the good of all Russia! Wipe out the Imperial family and make way for a new world. Yet here you live and until you are dead on this floor, my father’s work is incomplete!” He brought the gun up to face level, finger on the trigger.

Glancing to the side, Eddie’s eyes caught onto a mirror, and before Henry could release the shot, Eddie pulled it up to shield his face, the bullet bouncing off the glass. This distracted Henry for a moment, allowing Eddie to make a run for the door.

Just as he was about to yank it open, a hand wrapped around his arm, tugging him back and throwing Eddie to the ground, “You couldn’t just die could you? You have to make this difficult!”

Henry balled his hand up into a fist, and Eddie ducked his head out of the way, gasping as the fist punched the floor, a resounding crack echoing through the room. Using his chance, Eddie kicked his legs up, his feet hitting Henry dead on the abdomen, sending him to the ground. “Don’t fucking _touch_ me!”

Grabbing the gun, Eddie kicked it far out of Henry’s reach, picking up the broken mirror and holding it above his head. Henry chuckled darkly, wiping some of the saliva from his mouth, “It’s true what they say, you really are a little spitfire aren’t you!”

“I am my father’s son,” Eddie hissed in response. “I won’t give up without a fight.”

Henry didn’t say anything, instead, he made one final lunge for him, but this time Eddie was prepared. He swung the mirror, gasping as it hit Henry’s skull with a resounding _crack_ , sending him to the floor unconscious.

Taking in the scene before him, Eddie brought a hand up to his mouth. He was almost murdered...again. Yet here he still stood. He glanced up, catching his reflection in the mirror and he laughed.

“Good thing I’m not going to the ball then huh?” He muttered, rushing to the door. On his way out, he alerted the guards to Henry’s presence in his room, knowing they would deal with him from there. Ignoring their questions, Eddie rushed down the stairs and towards the station, where he knew Richie would be waiting to board a train.

Eddie was sure he had never ran so fast in his life, dodging through the crowds of people, his heart in his throat. Apologies left his lips with every person he bumped into to, but he didn’t stop, not until he entered the station and saw a train with the sign ‘Calais’ written on it, leaving the platform.

“No!”

There was nothing Eddie could do. Richie was on that train, heading for Calais, and then he would be on a boat to London. He was gone, and Eddie had missed his chance.

“Looking for someone, your highness?” A voice called out from behind him, causing Eddie to whip his body around in shock. There, leaning against a wall, a few feet away from him, was Richie. He was holding one piece of luggage, and his eyes were tired.

“Richie!” Eddie gasped, not willing himself to believe it. To believe that he was still here.

Richie opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes widened as he took in his appearance, “Eds, what happened?”

Eddie glanced down at his body, at his ripped suit. “Turns out there was still one more person out there who wanted to kill me.”

“What? Are you-”

“I’m fine. I’m a little spitfire, you know. Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Silence overtook them and Eddie glanced down. “You didn’t take the reward money?”

“I couldn’t-“ Richie breathed with a shake of his head. “It didn’t feel right anymore. I didn’t want it anymore.”

They were standing mere inches from one another, yet they were in a busy station, surrounded by thousands of people. Richie looked down, a sad smile on his face. “We should probably get you back. They’ll be worried about you.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, big and blue. If he went back to the palace, if he stayed here in Paris with his nana, then he would never be able to be with Richie. At that thought, it was as though someone had stabbed him in the gut. He didn’t want to go anywhere without Richie, not now, not ever. “Richie-”

Carefully, Richie took Eddie’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “Who knows. Maybe, one day, in a crowd of thousands, I’ll find you again.”

Richie dropped his hand, letting it fall limp to Eddie’s side and he picked up his luggage. Then, with a bow, he turned his back, walking away.

No. Eddie wasn’t about to let Richie walk away, not this time. “Paris will never feel like home if you’re not there!” He called, watching as Richie’s form froze and he turned back around. Eddie marched up to Richie, pulling his luggage out of Richie’s hands and throwing it to the ground before standing on it.

Now they were the same height, and Eddie could see the gold speckles in Richie’s dark brown eyes. If they were a ‘regular’ couple, Eddie would have leaned in and kissed Richie then and there, but they were in public, and Eddie knew he couldn't. So instead, he reached his hands out to cup his face. It was intimate, but could also be viewed as platonic.

“Eds, Prince’s don’t fall in love with kitchen boys…” Richie muttered, shaking his head.

“Well, His Imperial Highness Edward Nicolaevic Romanov would beg to differ...Chee.” At the use of the nickname, Richie’s eyes widened and Eddie swallowed thickly.

“Are you sure?” Richie asked, reaching down to wrap a gentle hand around Eddie’s wrist.

“I’m sure. Wherever you go, I go too.”

 

* * *

 

“May I have this dance?” Richie asked with a wide grin to which Eddie smiled back just as brightly, taking his jacket off and carelessly throwing it on the wooden boards of the boat’s deck.

With nothing more than a handful of wrinkled cash and the knowledge of what they were leaving behind, they had got on the train to Calais together, then embarked on a fairly small and creaking boat that, taking its sweet time, was heading to England.

Richie had made extra sure that Eddie was aware of what leaving Paris meant. He didn’t want to take Eddie away from his world, now that he had just found his place in it, but the Prince had been inflexible.

Wherever Richie was going, Eddie would have followed.

Eddie took the hand Richie was offering him and rested the other on the taller man’s shoulder, letting him lead the dance. There was no music playing, but Richie wasn’t going to let that stop them. He spun them around the deck, leading Eddie in a joyful dance that had them both grinning and staring into each other’s eyes.

Maybe, after all, Richie had found his home as well. It didn’t have to be a place, nor a house, nor a city. He realized that, wherever Eddie would have been, that was going to be his home.

They slowed down until they were standing in front of each other and Richie’s heart was threatening to beat his way out of his chest.

Before he could do anything, or even process a single string of thoughts, Eddie took hold of both of his suspenders and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together. Richie smiled in the kiss and cupped Eddie’s cheeks, kissing him back with just as much passion and determination. They parted for air, smiling at each other, and Richie scooped Eddie up from the floor, holding him up and spinning him around, getting lost in the sound of Eddie’s laugh and the feeling of his arms around his neck.

“I love you.” Eddie breathed, resting his forehead against Richie’s and tangling his fingers in his wild curls. “I love you, Rich.”

Richie looked up at him as his heart skipped a beat, because Eddie loved him. Prince Edward, Eds, Eddie, the Tsarevich. He was in love with nothing more than a conman, former kitchen boy.

“I love you too.” He grinned and pressed their lips together in a much more softer kiss. “Your majesty.” He added, teasingly. Eddie giggled against his lips and kissed him again, wrapping his arms tight around Richie’s neck.

And just as France went out of view, Richie couldn’t help but think that _that_ was the perfect beginning for whatever was about to come.

 


End file.
